Eldäriän
by sheesh1991
Summary: 5 1/2 years have passed since Eragon and Saphira left Alagaësia. Their lives are just getting started, but evil has a way of finding its way back into their lives and mysteries of ages long forgotten by time resurface in this exciting story. This is a continuation of the IC. There will be heavy scifi elements in future chapters of this story. 154 pages, 89,906 words and counting.
1. The Start of Something

**Hey readers! I've got a new story! For those fans of fantasy/adventure books, I think this story would be a nice read. This story is my continuation of the Inheritance Cycle. After reading the last book in the IC, I felt there were a lot of questions left unanswered and that the ending of the Cycle did the whole IC no justice. So, I decided I wanted to provide closure for myself, and many other fans who feel disappointed about the conclusion to the IC. That, and I want to provide myself and fans with more IC entertainment. I may not just be a big geek and scifi nerd, but I'm also a fan of fantasy. I may not be as crazy about dragons as I used to be when I was little, but I still hold the IC close to my heart. So, I created a continuation of the IC, because I want to see the main character embark on more perilous adventures, meet new friends and foes, and discover things previously unknown to history. So, I won't leave a big letter for you guys up here to read, so go on and read that story! P.S.: If you don't know about the IC, then I recommend you start reading the book **_Eragon_**, and continue through the IC. Then you'll be able to keep up with this story. Enjoy! P.S.S.: I'd really appreciate it if those of you who read this story to PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! I'm still a novice writer after 6 years, and I'd like for your feedback on my writing so that I may improve! That way, with your feedback I can write better stories for you the readers to ENJOY!**

**NOTE: Although this is a medieval themed fantasy story, there will be some scifi elements within the story. I have yet to figure out when I will put those elements in, but I know that I want to. I mean, c'mon. I'm a scifi nerd. You had to have known that I'd have scifi elements in my new story, right? But don't worry, there's no space travel and all that stuff. No space ships, no aliens, no Stargates and no planets exploding. This is set in a medieval type world, so it will remain a down-to-earth story.**

* * *

><p>229/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**The Start of Something**

Roran sighed as he placed the quill on his desk. He stood up from the chair and walked to the window of his private study. He rolled his shoulders, shifting the weight of the fur pelt that hung from the shoulders of his fine blue and red shirt down to his shoulder blades. He peered through the rain streaked glass and through the curtains of rain. The rain pounded and pattered against the pane of glass as sporadic gusts of wind pushed the rain in confused directions.  
>Roran was fed up with all of this rain, for it had been almost a week since this unrelenting cascade of water began. It was raining so hard that he could barely make out the stone roofing of Horst's large estate just below the cliff Roran's own estate sat atop of. He could just make out the faint shadows of other homes just beyond the fence line of Horst's estate. A single ball of orange light appeared out of the rain and quickly bobbed up and down in the direction of Horst's home, but quickly veered to the right and began heading up the cobblestone stepped path that lead up to Roran's estate.<br>Roran watched the bobbing orange light for a few moments until it disappeared from his view behind the wooden frame of the window. He stepped away from the window and walked towards the large single dark wooden door. He paused with his hand on the door handle, admiring the elaborate designs in the polished wood, and the various carvings depicting Roran's victorious battles during his time in the Varden. The carvings were confined within a large oval, split into three sections.  
>A single circle rested in the very center of the carvings, where the divisions would have intersected. In this circle were four gold figurines, two dragons, one elf and one human. The larger dragon stood behind the human, with its head just above the humans head. The curve of its neck formed part of the perimeter of the circle it stood within. The smaller dragon stood behind the elf, with its head pointed slightly upwards towards the larger dragon. The elf and the human were both facing one another, but turned slightly outwards so that the features of their faces could be recognizable. They held each others hands and both were smiling.<br>Roran had seen these golden figurines many hundreds of times, but it always fascinated him how lifelike the dwarves had made the figurines appear. Both dragons and the human and elf were hand forged and crafted from a single piece of solid gold by one of Orik's most skilled blacksmiths. He marveled at the shear detail the dwarf had put into this artwork. It was a gift Roran had received from Orik when the dwarf king visited Palancar Valley to check on the progress that had been made on the new village that Roran had established, which he named Oestaerya. Roran had wanted to give the village the name Carvahall, but upon Horst's and Katrina's insistence, as well as the majority of the villagers, Roran decided to invent a new name for it. That was four and a half years ago, when the village was given a new name, and when Orik visited.  
>Roran broke his train of thought, opened the door and left his study. He turned and closed the door. This side of door was identical in design and carvings to the side on the inside of his study. Every detail was precisely accurate to match and mirror the opposite side of the door; even the golden figurines in the center of the door were identical to the one Roran had just finished admiring. His eyes quickly fell upon the gold human figurine before he turned and walked down the hallway towards the main section of his estate. His boots thumped softly on the hard wood floor of the hallway.<br>He sighed, and he thought about Eragon again, just as he had been for years now. It had been five and a half years since he and Eragon had parted with one another on the banks of the Edda River; five and a half years since the last he saw of Eragon and Saphira was the sail of the ship slowly growing smaller and smaller on the horizon before it finally dipped beneath the thin shimmering line of the horizon. Eragon had not contacted him at all since then. _I wonder how far they have traveled,_ Roran thought to himself. _I wonder if they have managed to find a place to settle down._  
>Roran descended two flights of stone stairs and emerged into a grand hallway which the front entrance led into. He walked across the elegantly woven rug that Nasuada had given to him before he left Ilirea, a rug that had been recovered from the rubble of one of the treasure rooms inside the citadel. …<em>I wonder if they're alright.<em> Walking across the length of the stone floor to the two doors of the entrance to his estate, he reached for the handle of the door on the right, opened it, and greeted his visitor.  
>It was Horst. He was out of breath and soaked to the bone, and perhaps shivering from the cold. The torch in his hand was burning weakly. His fur coat had water droplets clinging to every hair, making it look as if it were covered with thousands of little diamonds. And the look on his face told Roran that something had happened. "Horst," he said. "What brings you here on such a bleak afternoon?"<br>After a moment, Horst regained his breath and spoke in a rush, with a trace of excitement in his voice, "Roran, all this rain has caused part of the cliff face near the edge of the village to collapse." He wiped the water from his nose and his forehead as it dripped from his wet hair.  
>"Was anyone hurt?" Roran asked.<br>Horst shook his head, "No, but it has exposed something…unusual."  
>This caught Roran's attention, "Unusual, you say?"<br>"A good forty feet of rock has fallen away from the cliff," Horst said with a nod. "Also, about two stories up, there is an opening."  
>"A cave opening?"<br>"Nay… it's too precise to be a cave opening. It appears to be man made."  
>This peaked Roran's interest, as nothing intriguing as this had occurred in a very long while, "Is there any access to it?" Horst shook his head in response, "Very well. When and if this rain stops anytime soon, we'll go down to see what all the excitement is all about."<p>

ͼͽ

Eragon thrust his head into the cold glacial water that cascaded down into a deep hole below the top of the two hundred foot rock face it fell from. He held his head in the waterfall for a few seconds before pulling back, throwing his head back so his wet hair fell on the back of his neck. Streams of the ice cold water ran down the groove of his back that his spine made, sending shivers through his body from head to toe. He spit some of the water that had dripped into his mouth, and grimaced when the silt in the water grinded between his teeth.  
>He walked back to where he had placed his tunic and a fine cloth towel on a large boulder just a few feet away from the bank of the glacial stream. He reached down and picked the towel off the boulder, tossed it onto his head and vigorously dried his hair. Once he was satisfied that his hair was dry, he put his tunic back on, and walked back down the game trail he had used to get there. He carefully made his way through the maze of dead branches that stuck out at him from the many alpine pine trees that grew there.<br>These alpine pines were similar to those of the pine trees he was familiar with from The Spine. The bark was similar to the pines of The Spine, but the branches had upwards of about twenty thin and flexible needles on each bud. These pines, which he called fir trees, grew only in the upper reaches of the ring of mountains that made up the basin in which he had decided to settle and build the next city of the Riders.  
>For almost two hours, Eragon made his way down the side of the mountain through the maze of fir trees. When he finally emerged from the trees below the alpine level, he stopped at the edge of a small drop-off, and beheld the sight before him. It was the inner basin of the ring of mountains in which he had settled, a beautiful sight that none in the land of Alagaësia may have never seen before and perhaps never see.<br>This ring of mountains that were just as tall as those of The Spine, perhaps much taller, mystified him and the elves. These mountains were nestled within a large expanse of forest. The nearest mountain chain was more than fifty miles away to the northeast. Why there was a perfect ring of mountains in the middle of a sea of trees, Eragon could not answer. The elves had measured the diameter of the ring of mountains, and found it to be about twelve miles from the top of one mountain, to the top of another mountain on the opposite side of the ring. The basin the mountains formed was much lower than the rest of the surrounding landscape, sinking nearly half a mile below the ground level outside the ring.  
>A single small rocky peak rose up from the flat expanse of the depression in the very center of the basin, rising about six hundred feet above the floor of the basin. It was on the top of that small rocky peak that Eragon had built his home, a massive stone castle which he had constructed from the very stone of that mountain. With the help of Saphira and the elves, as well as the eldunari, it took them almost a year of singing to mold and shape just the foundation of the structure. It took them longer than they had expected for they discovered that the rock that made up the mountain was rich in iron. Over the course of the next two and a half years, Eragon took to constructing his new home from the stone of the top of the mountain, which he had removed with magic. Saphira helped as well, moving the much larger boulders that Eragon could not move with magic himself.<br>By the time they had finished, the palace rivaled the stone structures of Dorú Areaba. It was not just his home, but Saphira's as well. The hallways and corridors were large enough for her and another dragon to walk comfortably side by side. The rooms were large enough for Saphira to spread her wings and the central courtyard was big enough for at least twenty dragons of Saphira's size to stand in.  
>Once his home was finished, Eragon helped Blödhgarm and the rest of the elves build their own homes directly below his own. Theirs were not as large as his castle, but were still large enough to house dragons within their walls. For the remaining year and a half Eragon helped with building their estates, and laying down walkways and paths between each of their homes and even his. After finishing that, a large path was constructed down the side of the mountain, leading from Eragon's estate down to the flat expanse of the basin floor below.<br>And today was the day when work on the first buildings of the new city of the Riders had begun. Eragon's eyes moved from the central peak to the winding path that led from the top of the mountain, then down to the end of the path. More would be added on to the main path as the city continued to be built and developed. Eragon could faintly see the foundations of two large buildings on either side of the path, right at the foot of the small peak.  
>He smiled and thought to himself, <em>They've been working nonstop for the last three years. Maybe I should have them rest for a week. They only just finished the path yesterday.<em>  
>A roar echoed somewhere in the distance. Eragon looked up to his left to the top of the mountain next to the one he had just descended. Within a few moments of him looking up, a flash of blue shot from behind the peak of the mountain. He watched as the sparkle of blue suddenly turned and headed in his direction, slowly growing larger until Eragon could make out the distinct shape of Saphira. He smiled again and gently touched her mind with his, <em>You seem to be enjoying yourself today.<em>  
><em>Kaeshta tells that King Orik has just contacted us,<em> was Saphira's response.  
>Kaeshta was the first hatchling of the dragon eggs that Eragon and Saphira recovered from the Vault of Souls. She had only hatched about two weeks earlier, when he and Blödhgarm were moving the eggs to the warmth of the large hearth in Eragon's huge lounge room. No sooner had Blödhgarm touched the small, bowl-sized purple egg did it start to wobble in his hands. It had come as a surprise not just to Blödhgarm, but to everyone, as they had not been expecting an egg to hatch so soon. When the small, mink-sized dragon finally emerged, Eragon urged Blödhgarm to make the bond as she had obviously chosen him to be her Rider. Thus, Blödhgarm became a Rider, although he hesitated at first. For a week afterwards, Saphira taught the little dragon how to touch minds and communicate through the use of images.<br>_She learns quickly, doesn't she?_ Eragon asked as Saphira circled twice overhead before descending to land. She back flapped three times to slow her descent, before she let herself drop the meager ten feet to the ground. Eragon had to bend his knees to steady himself as the ground shuddered violently beneath Saphira's weight. He had not noticed himself, but it was evident that Saphira had grown a great deal. For the last three years he carefully watched as he belly grew larger and larger, evident of the batch of precious eggs she was carrying.  
>Saphira extended her neck towards him and allowed him to rub the scales above her left eye, <em>Yes she does. She is a quick learner, but she is not growing as fast as we expected her to. She is just about the same size as she was when she hatched.<em>  
><em>Give her time,<em> Eragon replied, _I remember it took you a long time to grow to the size of a house cat._  
><em>But that is because you were trying to conceal me from Garrow, little one.<em>  
><em>True, I was,<em> Eragon agreed as he looked back towards the central peak. _But I still provided you with as much food as we are providing to Kaeshta. Did I not?_  
>Saphira hummed in response, <em>That you did.<em>  
>Eragon smiled and patted her on her cheekbone. <em>Well then, let's go see what Orik wants to talk about.<em> He walked over and hoisted himself into the saddle on her back. He placed the towel on the saddle and sat on top of it, then tied the top straps around his legs. He felt Saphira's muscles flex and ripple beneath his legs as she leaped forward off the edge of the rock face and unfurled her wings. She flapped twice and was soon high above the basin floor heading towards the central peak.

It only took Saphira ten minutes to cross the flat, wooded and grassy expanse of the basin. They first stopped by the new construction sites. He made the elves gather around him and Saphira to offer them a week of rest. Although the elves appreciated his offer, none of them accepted it. They were all content with continuing with their work. "Very well," Eragon said, "but don't strain yourselves too much, promise me that."  
>"You need not worry about us Eragon," said one of the older female elves with graceful black hair that fell passed her shoulders and hazel brown eyes, whose name Eragon remembered was Irethil.<br>Eragon nodded silently, and the elves dispersed, returning to whatever they had each been working on.  
>And with that, Saphira pressed on up the path at a brisk trot. It took her about five minutes to ascend the thousands of steps to the front door of Eragon's castle. With a slight nudge of her head, the heavy wooden doors with intricate patterns the elves had sung into the wood opened slowly. When they had swung all the way open, Saphira walked in, and just as soon as the tip of her tail had entered the threshold, the doors began to swing closed. Without letting Eragon undo the straps around his legs, Saphira trotted on, making her way through the maze of massive hallways and junctions to the large room the Eragon called his quarters and study.<br>It was a truly gigantic room, able to house at least three dragons of Saphira's size comfortably. The ceiling extended at least a full story above Saphira's head, and a large golden chandelier with bobbing werelights hung in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating every inch and corner of the blocky arched ceiling. Stopping, Saphira let Eragon drop to the floor. Then she walked over to one of the large windows, by which was a large hearth. In front of the window and hearth was Eragon's study; a large wooden desk with a chair, a bear pelt carpet and two lounge chairs directly in front of the fireplace.  
>Standing by the desk with his back towards Eragon and Saphira, was Blödhgarm. He seemed to be conversing with someone. Saphira stopped just behind him, and he turned to face her. "Ah, Saphira. We had just started talking about you."<br>Eragon crossed the length of the room over to his desk. He could see that Blödhgarm was cradling something in his right arm. As he drew closer, he realized it was Kaeshta, as the light from the fireplace reflected off of her scales. They were a beautiful mixture of purple and amethyst colors, and the light that bounced off of them sent a dazzling spray of diamond shaped purple hues on the floor.  
>Kaeshta rested lazily in Blödhgarm's arm, much like the ragdoll cats Eragon had seen resting on window sills in many cities throughout Alagaësia. Both her left front and back legs hung limply over the side of Blödhgarm's arm. She picked her head out from the crook of his arm and extended her head towards Saphira, who gently touched the tip of her nose with Kaeshta's nose. Kaeshta gave a soft hum when their noses parted. Her eyes were a very deep shade of purple, almost a blue color much like Saphira's scales but still not quite blue. Eragon still could not get over how much Kaeshta looked like Saphira; when she hatched, he could have sworn that she was Saphira's twin. Then the little dragon yawned and let her head slightly droop off the side of Blödhgarm's arm.<br>"You were not joking when you said they look alike," Eragon heard someone's voice say as he drew closer to Blödhgarm. He recognized the voice to be that of Orik. "Perhaps she and Saphira share the same mother?"  
>Eragon stopped beside Blödhgarm, who dipped his head towards him in acknowledgement, "Perhaps, but we cannot know for certain." Eragon looked down at the mirror standing on his desk and saw not his reflection, but Orik's.<br>"Well well," Orik said as soon as he saw Eragon, "if it isn't mine adopted brother. Eragon!" Orik exclaimed with joy. "How goes it where ever you are? We have not spoken in such a long time!"  
>"Orik," Eragon said with a smile, "it's good to see you. Everything fares well here. We've only just begun construction on the first buildings of our new city. Ah, I wish you were here to see the magnificence of this place. I'm sure you and you're people would love this place."<br>Orik gave a quick nod, "From what Blödhgarm has already told me, I'm already yearning to be there. A perfect ring of mountains in the middle of no where?"  
>Eragon nodded, "That's what it looks like from up high. And the central peak where our homes are is rich in iron."<br>"Iron, you say?" Orik place his left elbow in the palm of his right hand and began stroking his beard. His eyes moved from Eragon to Blödhgarm, "And the basin you are in falls half a mile below the forest floor outside the ring?"  
>"That is what we measured it out to be," Blödhgarm answered. "The ring itself is twelve miles in diameter."<br>"Are the peaks of the mountains connected with one another?" Orik asked.  
>"No," Blödhgarm replied. "Why do you ask if they are connected? Of what significance is that?"<p>

"That reminds me," said Eragon. "Yesterday Saphira and I decided to fly southeast from the mountain ring. About ten miles from the ring, the forest ends, and the plains and scrubland begin. And the strange thing about that is that in some areas, the ground seems to have buckled upwards and cracked. We even saw stones and boulders that were the same as the mountains scattered across the landscape. The rocks of the plains are more of a brown color, rather than the white like our mountain ring."  
>Eragon saw a spark in Orik's eye, and his excitement became evident as his stroking of his beard quickened, "Eragon, Blödhgarm, I envy you both."<br>"How so?" Blödhgarm asked as he softly stroked Kaeshta's head with two fingers.  
>Orik took a deep breath, "It has been passed down among my people as a legend. No one knows how old the legend is, but it is said that every few thousand years, fire will rain down upon the land. Most of the time you will see it as nothing but a small, brief streak across the night sky."<br>"You mean a falling star?" Eragon asked.  
>Orik nodded, "If that is what your people call it, then yes. Falling stars are very frequent, but they are not very significant. But every few thousand years, one of significant size will fall to the earth." Blödhgarm and Eragon looked at one another. Orik continued, "Wherever these fires strike the earth, a terrible shuddering of the earth follows, as well as a great noise. If one were to investigate, what may have been nothing but flat land has become nothing but a large, deep depression surrounded by a ring of jagged mountains, all connected at the peaks. And in the very center of these depressions would be a single peak…rich in iron and other very rare metals."<br>_Are you saying that this basin we are living in is the result of a fire that fell from the sky?_ Saphira asked Orik, but allowed Eragon and Blödhgarm to hear.  
>"Aye, that's what it seems from what you have told me," Orik answered with another quick nod. "And the land around the depression will be buckled upwards and cracked, much like you described. And rocks will have been thrown outwards and spread out across miles of landscape. That is why you saw rocks much similar to the ones that make up the ring of mountains you are in."<br>"In other words," Blödhgarm began, "you're saying that the location of the next city of the Riders is in one of these depressions? Where a…falling star has hit the earth?"  
>"Yes. It's the only explanation that I can think of thus far, and it matches the description of the legend of old."<br>"But then why is the stone of the central peak rich in iron?" Eragon asked. "Not only that, but it is gray rather than white."  
>"My people believe that the iron rich peak in the center of these depressions is a gift from the gods." He had stroked his beard so much that he had formed it so that it looked like the straight head of a javelin, with a point at the end. "Yes, there are areas within the Beor Mountains where veins of iron will protrude on the surface, but the only way you will get an entire mountain that is composed primarily of iron is when a falling star strikes the earth. Now, in your case, the only description that is off is the ring of mountains. In the legend, there are no peaks, just a ring of jagged mountains all connected with one another."<br>His hand ceased stroking his beard and he pondered for a moment. "Perhaps…the depression you are in is not the one from the legend. Perhaps, it is from a falling star that struck the earth many hundreds of thousands, or perhaps millions of years ago. That is the only reasonable answer I can find for why there are peaks in your ring of mountains. It is very old, so old that time, water, and wind has weathered the softer parts of the ring down. Perhaps the ring used to be much higher than it is today."  
>"Interesting," said Blödhgarm. "To think that this place was formed as a result of a piece of stone falling from the stars."<br>"What's that?" Orik asked has his eyes fell upon the furred elf.  
>"What do you mean a piece of stone from the stars?" Eragon asked as well. "Don't you mean a falling star?"<br>Blödhgarm shook his head, "No. We elves have been observing the heavens for many centuries, Eragon. Stars do not fall. They are fixed in the heavens, and nothing can force them to leave their positions in the sky. What you call a falling star is actually a rock that originates from the heavens, not of this world."  
>"You mean to tell me that there are rocks full of iron and brightsteel up there?" Orik asked as he leaned his face closer to the mirror, studying Blödhgarm's expression carefully. Eragon could see nothing but the whole of the dwarf kings face in the mirror.<br>Blödhgarm gave a soft nod of his head, "Yes. That is what we have been able to determine through the many centuries we have been studying the night skies. It seems that the heavens are abundant with these otherworldly stones."  
>Orik leaned away from the mirror, and Eragon could see the face of another dwarf looking at them over Orik's shoulder before the dwarf disappeared from view behind the frame of the mirror, "Outstanding. Rocks not of this world…rocks full of gold and silver, perhaps full of diamonds! A treasure trove of jewels and metals, all up in the sky." He glanced upwards quickly before looking back at them, "It seems so close when you think about it, but in reality it is so far away."<br>Saphira let out a loud sigh as she lay down on the stone floor. _This conversation is interesting, at the least,_ she said. _But was there not something important you wanted to speak to us about?_  
>"Ah, yes there is," said Orik. "Thank you for reminding me, Saphira." He paused, and looked over at someone to his left. He motioned for them to come closer, "Eragon, I'd like you to meet Flarolth." Orik smiled as the face of a young, red haired and beardless dwarf entered into the frame of the mirror. "Go on," Orik said to the young dwarf, "let them see you." Orik stepped out of view and urged the young dwarf into full view.<br>And there, sitting on the dwarfs right shoulder, perched much like a cat with its tail wrapped around his neck, was a dragon. Eragon became excited upon seeing the orange dragon, "Flarolth, it is good to meet you. So you are the very first dwarf rider! How does it feel to be the first of the knurla to bond with a dragon?" He studied the new dragon carefully. Much of the dragon was a brilliant orange luster, but its wings and underside were a deep hue of red, much like the stunning red color of Thorn's scales. The dragon looked from Blödhgarm to Eragon with its beautiful emerald green eyes; they were just as green as any emerald Eragon had ever seen during his time among the dwarves.  
>Kaeshta picked her head up from Blödhgarm's arm and admired the orange dragon. The orange dragon stretched its neck towards the mirror upon seeing Kaeshta, and the two gazed at one another with total interest. Kaeshta sniffed at the air a few times, trying to catch the scent of the orange dragon before her.<br>Flarolth opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated when he glimpsed Saphira's large eye looking at him over Eragon's shoulder. He stuttered, "D-do they really get t-that big?"  
>"Hm?" Eragon asked. He looked over his shoulder at Saphira, who blinked. "Yes, dragons do get quite big, much bigger than Saphira is at the moment in fact."<br>"What have you named your dragon, Flarolth?" Blödhgarm asked as he resumed stroking Kaeshta, this time on her neck.  
>"Athgar, after my father. He hatched only just yesterday," Flarolth replied. Athgar slightly turned his head towards Flarolth at the mention of his name, but other than that his attention remained fixed on Kaeshta.<br>"Athgar," Eragon repeated the name. A fitting name for the first dragon to hatch for a dwarf. "I'm sure that it will be a name that history will never forget. This is a turning point for the Riders, for now dwarves may finally share the title of Rider with the elves and humans." He cast a glanced at Blödhgarm, "Now only the Urgal's are left."  
>Blödhgarm nodded, "Let us just hope that they remain true to their word and not use the power their Rider gains for their own selfish purposes."<br>"Let us not think of them that way any longer," Eragon stated, "I'm sure they'll remain true to their promise. I have faith in them." He looked back at Flarolth, "Now, Flarolth. I am not going to force you, but I am giving you the option to come to us, the option to study to become a great Rider. You do not have to if you do not-"  
>"I wish to travel to you," Flarolth said enthusiastically, "and become the first and greatest dwarf Rider there ever was!"<br>Eragon smiled, "I like your enthusiasm. It is good to see that you are eager to bear the title of Rider. Now the only question remaining is how soon do you wish to leave?"  
>Flarolth pondered for a few minutes, thinking his answer over very carefully. Athgar's gaze ventured from Kaeshta to Saphira's large eye. He sniffed at the air a few times and then sneezed, startling Flarolth. Smoke shot forth from Athgar's nostrils when he sneezed, billowing up against the surface of the mirror before dissipating. Eragon heard Orik's hearty laugh from somewhere next to Flarolth. The young dwarf glanced at where Orik was outside the frame of the mirror, "I wish to leave in two days. I'd like to say proper farewell's to my family before I leave."<br>Eragon nodded, "Very well. But I will warn you, the journey to our location will take about six months of travel by boat and then four weeks worth of travel on foot. Well, one week if you do it on dragonback." He glanced at Blödhgarm again, "You think he'll be able to ride dragonback by the time they reach the drop off point on the river?"  
>Blödhgarm shrugged, "Perhaps. But it would be wise to train him somewhat to ride dragonback before they undertake the journey. Someone with experience needs to train him."<br>"Is it really that difficult to ride on the back of a dragon?" Flarolth asked.  
>"It is fairly difficult at the beginning, yes," Eragon replied. "But once you've flown a few times, it becomes progressively easier." His eyes moved to Athgar, for the orange dragon had released its hold on Flarolth's neck with his tail, and seemed to be readying himself for a pounce; his gaze had gone back to Kaeshta. Athgar shuffled his wings a few times. Kaeshta watched him intently, seeming to wonder what Athgar was doing. Eragon knew what the little orange dragon intended to do. He opened his mouth to warn Flarolth, but it was too late, for Athgar had leapt off of the dwarf's shoulder towards the mirror. Flarolth yelped in surprise when he felt Athgar leap from his shoulder and strike the surface of the mirror. All Eragon could see was brown and gray as the mirror toppled end over end through the air. And then four fingers appeared at the top of the mirror as someone had caught the mirror.<br>Kaeshta was surprised as well when she saw the orange dragon suddenly grow large for a moment when he hit the mirrors surface. She jumped from Blödhgarm's arm onto his left shoulder to Eragon's right shoulder, scurried from his right to his left shoulder, and leaped up onto Saphira's head. Saphira did not flinch at all as Kaeshta clambered up over her left eye ridge and onto the very top of her head. There, she tucked her front paws underneath her lilac colored belly and watched the mirror carefully.  
>Orik's face appeared in the mirror as he held it in both hands, "Sorry about that Eragon."<br>"There's nothing to apologize for, Orik," Eragon replied as the dwarf king returned the mirror back onto the surface it had been standing on just before. Flarolth now had Athgar tucked under his left arm. The little orange dragon was gazing up at the young dwarf, who in turn was looking down at the dragon. "Athgar is but a hatchling. He could not have known that we were not in the room with you, nor could he have known that he could not pass through the mirror. It is all part of the learning experience for a young dragon. They are much like all of us when we are young, we make mistakes and we learn from those mistakes."  
>Orik nodded, "Aye, mistakes. It's still hard to recognize that dragons have just as much of a conscience as us, and that they aren't mere animals."<br>_Anyone who thinks of us as mere animals would be a fool to stand before me or any other dragon for that matter,_ said Saphira. A puff of smoke rose from her nostrils and over her head. The smoke enveloped Kaeshta for a moment before continuing to rise. Kaeshta snorted twice when the smoke surrounded her.  
>Orik chuckled heartily, "Aye, they'd be a fool alright. But you know full well I'm not one of those fools." He glanced over his shoulder at Flarolth, who was still looking into Athgar's emerald eyes. "The first knurla to become a rider," Orik said shaking his head as he turned back towards Eragon and Blödhgarm, "I don't think any knurla ever thought this day would ever come. But it's thanks to you, Eragon that this day has come. I know I've said this before, but on behalf of the knurla you have our eternal thanks, Eragon."<br>Eragon smiled and bowed his head, but did not say anything.  
>"Back to what we were discussing before," said Blödhgarm, "I believe it is wise for you to go out to the drop off point to meet Flarolth and Athgar there to teach them in the art of riding dragonback."<br>Eragon pondered the suggestion for a moment before giving his answer, "That may be a wise decision, since I have the most experience on dragonback. But I must also see to the location of new construction. At the moment, I have more responsibility on my shoulders than you do, Blödhgarm."  
>"But I have little to no experience on dragonback," the furred elf objected. "How may I teach a new Rider how to fly, if I have not learned how to fly myself?"<br>Eragon glanced up at the little purple dragon perched atop Saphira's head. He smiled when she looked at him, "She has six months to grow. By that time, I'm confident that she'll be large enough for you to ride. And during that six month period, Saphira may instruct you on how to fly dragonback." He shot a glance down at Saphira, "Would you be willing to let him ride you?"  
>Saphira was silent for a moment. She quickly looked up at Kaeshta before she answered, <em>Yes. I am willing to teach Blödhgarm. But only on one condition.<em>  
>"What would that be?" asked Eragon.<br>_The little one would like to participate in flying,_ Saphira responded. _She would also like to experience how to fly._  
>Eragon was concerned with this condition, but it soon faded away when Blödhgarm said, "Yes. I feel that if I am to learn how to ride dragonback, Kaeshta should also experience how it is to fly until she is able to herself."<br>Eragon nodded, "Then it's settled." He turned back towards the mirror, "By the time Flarolth arrives at the drop off point, I'm confident that Athgar will be of reasonable size to fly, and Blödhgarm will be capable of instructing Flarolth on how to ride."  
>"Very good," Orik replied. He leaned away from the mirror, and looked towards Flarolth and Athgar, "Well, let us just hope that everything works out smoothly, and they arrive there safely."<br>"I just have one question," Flarolth said looking up from Athgar towards the mirror. "How am I to learn to fly if I have no saddle?"  
>"Well," Blödhgarm said, "Eragon did say that Athgar would be of reasonable size to be able to fly, but he did not say that you would be riding on his back. When we meet one another at the drop off, I'm willing to instruct you how to fly, with the help of Kaeshta. You'll be riding on her back, rather than Athgar's. It is not safe to ride without a saddle. On our journey here, you'll be riding with me on Kaeshta. When we arrive here, there will be a saddle waiting for you."<br>"Just make sure he gets there in one piece," said Orik. "I don't want to hear that he fell out of the saddle and died during his training, you hear?"  
>Blödhgarm nodded, "Do not worry, King Orik. I will not be teaching him anything extreme. Everyone must start with basics."<br>Satisfied with Blödhgarm's answer, Orik crossed his arms and left the frame of the mirror. "Good," he said. "Well, we must be going now. We must finish with preparations for the feast and celebration in honor of Flarolth becoming the first dwarf Rider."  
>Eragon nodded and smiled, "Try not to get him too drunk before he departs on his journey."<br>Orik laughed, "Unlike humans, we knurla can tolerate a large amount of mead. No need to worry. Farewell then, Eragon, Blödhgarm, Saphira."  
><em>Farewell,<em> said Saphira.  
>"Farewell," Eragon said. Blödhgarm bowed his head towards the dwarf king.<br>And then the reflection of Orik, Flarolth and Athgar faded, and they were looking at their own reflections. Blödhgarm turned towards Saphira and held out his hands. Saphira leaned her head closer to him, and Kaeshta hopped down from her head into his waiting arms. In no time, she had made herself comfortable and nestled her head between the crook of his elbow and forearm.  
><em>Well,<em> said Saphira, _things are beginning to move forward. It is finally the start of something, a turning point in history._  
>Eragon nodded, "Yes. The start of something; the rebuilding of the Riders."<p>

**Ä**

**End Chapter 1**

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names:<strong>

**Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
><strong>**Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm<br>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall  
>Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon<br>Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
>Flarolth: fla-roll-th<br>Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh  
>Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah<br>****Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<strong>


	2. Ancients of an Unknown Past

**4/20/12 Here's Chapter 2 of my continuation of the Inheritance Cycle! Hope you like it guys, cause I sure had a hell of a lot of fun writing it for you fans of the IC! The mystery deepens!**

* * *

><p>326/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by and is copyrighted to Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

Ancients of an Unknown Past

Two days after Horst had told Roran about the collapse of the cliff side near the edge of the village, the rain finally died down. By the third day, everything began to dry, but the ground remained saturated with water, and large pond sized puddles were abundant, making it difficult not to dirty one's shoes with mud. On the fourth day, Roran had had enough of sitting in his home.

"Katrina," Roran shouted as he passed the door to the living room. "I am leaving to meet Horst by the cliff."

"That is fine," Katrina's voice replied from within the room. "Why don't you take Ismira with you?"

Before Roran could reply, Ismira came bouncing out of the doorway and wrapped her small arms around his legs. The brown haired girl looked up at him with her hazel-brown eyes, and squeaked, "Can I come with you father?"

Roran knelt down and scooped up the little girl in his arms as he smiled warmly, "It is too dangerous for a child to wander around the cliff when it is not safe. I will not risk having you there with me, Ismira." Ismira furrowed her eyebrows and pushed out her lower lip, giving him a look of sadness, "I'm sorry, but you will have to stay with your mother. But you may go play with Hope today. I'm sure she is still home."

The little girls face brightened up with happiness at the mention of Hope's name. "Yay!" she exclaimed. She turned when she heard Katrina step out of the living room, "Mama, can we go see Hope today?"

Katrina smiled, "Well of course you can." She looked at Roran, "I was meaning to go see Elain today, pick up some vegetables. We're running short on them."

"All because of a blasted storm," Roran stated. "It's incredible to think that nature can be so resilient, especially when it comes to the weather. I do believe that this is the worst and longest storm the Palancar has seen yet."

Katrina nodded in agreement, "Yes it was. I heard from Baldor that the storm reached as far south as the Urgal settlements. It seems that Nar Garzhvog's settlement was washed away."

"Was it now?" asked Roran. "I had not heard. Perhaps we should send some men down to help them relocate. It's the least we can do for them."

"I don't think they'd like the assistance. They might think that we think of them as being weaklings." Katrina brushed aside a few loose strands of hair that had fallen over her left eye.

Roran nodded, "Perhaps. But it never hurts to send assistance anyway. If they refuse, then the men will be ordered to immediately return." Ismira wrapped her arms around his neck for a moment before she reached back towards Katrina, who lifted her out of Roran's arms and into her own. He sighed, "Well then, I'm off to see what all the commotion is about the cave."

"Tell me what you find papa!" Ismira exclaimed happily.

"I will," Roran said as he leaned forward and gave both her and Katrina kisses on their foreheads. He looked into both of their eyes. He wanted to stay just a bit longer with them, but he knew he had to see to it that there was no more danger around the cliff. As he leaned back from them, he hesitated upon locking eyes with Katrina and kissed her once more, this time on her lips. He did not break the kiss for several seconds.

"Be careful," said Katrina when he broke the kiss and leaned away from her. Roran nodded and departed, leaving her standing with Ismira in front of the living room door.

A dog with long golden yellow fur walked out of the living room and stopped by Katrina's feet, its tongue slightly protruding from between its jaws and chops as it panted lightly. It cocked its head to one side, pricked its drooping ears forward when it saw Roran walking away from them, and whined.

Hearing the whine, Roran looked over his shoulder and clapped his hands together twice. "Come, Zophia!" he called to the dog. With that the golden furred dog bolted after him, its claws scratching and clacking against the hard wooden floor boards.

ͼͽ

Roran tossed a large stick away from him into one of the large ornamental fish ponds that had been built near the center of the village, a short distance from Baldor's home. Zophia leaped from the bank of the pond into the water after the stick, causing the many different colored ornamental fish that swam in the pond to scatter.

One of the villagers had found the fish species three years earlier in an isolated bay on the northern edge of Leona Lake. Since then Danik, the villager who discovered the fish, bred the fish and began selling them off, starting one of the first major businesses of Oestaerya.

Zophia grabbed the floating stick between her jaws and proceeded to swim back. She ignored the larger orange, black and white calico fish as they nipped at her paws and tail, tasting her with their large soft mouths in order to find out if she was food. Their mouths protruded above the surface of the water as they swam towards her, opening and closing repeatedly as if begging for food. She reached the edge of the pond, and placed her front paws up on the bank, but could not lift herself up out of the water. Her back legs splashed at the surface of the water, trying to reach up for a foothold on the bank. She whined.

Roran chuckled as he stepped forward, knelt down on one knee, and with relative ease, hoisted the wet golden dog out of the water by the scruff on the back of her neck. When all four paws were on the ground, Zophia dropped the stick and shook herself. As her head turned, her wet floppy ears slapped against the sides of her head. Water droplets flew in all directions as they were shaken off her drenched fur.

Roran jumped back as the water droplets pelted him, "Oh, Zophia! Must you do that while I am standing next to you?"

Zophia looked up at him, a look of content and utter joy on her muzzle as she panted with her pink tongue lolling out of her jaws.

Roran smiled when he saw how happy she was, "Ah, who am I to spoil your fun?" He bent down, grabbed the stick, and continued walking to his destination. Zophia followed close behind, watching the stick intently. When he did not throw the stick for her, she lunged forward and grabbed the stick with her jaws, growling playfully as she did and a tug-of-war ensued between her and Roran for the rest of the walk.

ͼͽ

Roran tossed the stick away when they reached the cliff side, and Zophia galloped after it. Roran looked towards the jumble of tan rocks that used to be part of the cliff face just on the outskirts of the village. A small hut stood nearby the collapse, with one large boulder as big as the hut itself resting just behind the hut. If the boulder had fallen just a few inches closer, the hut would have been flattened.

"Roran!" someone shouted from the rock jumble. He moved his eyes to the person who was running towards him. It was Horst, "Good of you to come. We just managed to secure a ladder up to the cave."

"Good," Roran said as he and Horst walked together towards the collapse. "Has anyone been inside yet?"

Horst shook his head, "No one has gone more than three feet inside. No one is willing to venture inside until you had arrived." He and Roran began to clamber up among the rocks, climbing over and under boulders and slabs of the tan colored rocks. Zophia was hot on their heels, and soon overtook them, jumping skillfully from rock to rock like a mountain goat.

It took them five minutes to weave their way through the maze of rocks and boulders until they finally reached the foot of the cliff, where two tents had been pitched up.

Baldor ran up to Roran, huffing and puffing. "Roran!" he said with excitement. The collar of his shirt was soaked with sweat, which ran down his face and neck. He put his hands on his knees and bent forward, gasping for breath.

"Blast it Baldor," Horst scolded, "I told you to take it easy! You've only just recovered from your accident!"

"I'm fine father," Baldor retorted, "see?" He straightened up and swung his right arm around three times in a circle. "Perfectly fine!"

Horst grunted with disproval, but did not say anything further.

"Roran," Baldor said after he caught his breath, "you must come see. I think we've found something! Come! This way!"

Roran and Horst followed him passed the two tents. A large group of workers stood clustered near a large rock the size of a horse.

"Move away!" Baldor shouted. "Roran must see this!"

The men parted and allowed the three to pass through.

"Here it is!" Baldor exclaimed in excitement. "None of us know what it is. Perhaps it's in the language of the dwarves? Or the elves?" He pointed to a face of the rock that was relatively flat.

On that flat surface, was the shape of a doorway that was slightly taller than the average man, resting against the boulder. On this doorway were numerous runes and carvings the likes of which Roran had never seen before. He shook his head as he gazed in wonder at the strange, elegantly curved runes that perhaps made up words or letters of words, "I've seen both written languages of the dwarves and elves…this looks nothing like their languages. Not one bit."

He placed his hand on the surface of the doorway, and ran his fingers over the smooth carvings and runes, "I don't think this is a language any of us have any idea of," Roran continued. "Perhaps the elves might have some idea of what these runes are." He glanced up at Baldor, "Go and retrieve the mirror. We need to inform Arya and Nasuada about this discovery at once."

ͼͽ

Roran turned the mirror towards the strange doorway propped up against the rock so that Arya could see it. There was silence for a few minutes while Arya and one of her expert scholars on the Ancient language studied the runes.

"May you move closer to the runes on the upper left of the carving?" Roran heard the male elf scholar ask. He moved closer to the area the elf had spoken about, where the runes were more abundant.

"I do not believe I have ever seen anything like these before," Arya said. Roran detected the amazement in her voice, but imagined her with an expressionless face. "These runes are…nothing similar to the Ancient language."

"Yes," the male elf agreed, "nothing similar. I see absolutely no similarities to the Ancient language. The structure of these runes is…" He trailed off as he studied the runes further.

"Are you saying that we may have discovered some…new ancient language?" Roran asked as he himself studied the runes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the workers lean forward and point to some carvings in the lower right of the doorway, and his friend next to him nodded.

"Let us not jump to conclusions just yet," Arya said. "It may just be the Ancient language, written in a dwarven interpretation."

"I do not believe so," the male elf stated. "I am familiar with ancient dwarven runes, and they are not as precise as these. Their runes are more…rudimentary and very bulky." There was a pause for a moment before he spoke again, "With your permission, I'd like to travel down there and examine the artifact more closely. I cannot make any precise observations through this mirror."

"You may," Arya replied. "Fírnen and I will travel with you as well; I'd like to get a closer look at these runes myself. Is that alright with you, Roran?"

"You are always welcome in our village," Roran responded as he turned the mirror towards him with one flick of his finger. "I contacted Nasuada as well. She and Jeod will be up here within four days."

Arya nodded, "Very well. It might help to have Jeod there as well. We shall be there within four days as well."

"Good. In the mean time, I'll wait on venturing into the cave until you get here." Arya gave him a questioning look, "We think this doorway is a cover for the cave opening that the collapse has exposed." Roran turned the mirror once more, up towards the opening of the cave. The opening was the same shape as the carving on the rock, "It's amazing that the carving is completely intact and that breaking away from the cliff did not cause it to crumble into pieces."

"That is most intriguing," Roran heard the male elf say. "It seems your assumption may be right."

"Now I am very intrigued," Arya said as Roran turned the mirror back toward his face again. "We will leave for Oestaerya at once."

Roran nodded with a smile, "Safe travels to you. Try not to push Fírnen too hard."

Arya smiled, " Fírnen is not young any longer, Roran. He is just as capable as Saphira is with long travel."

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten that five and a half years have already passed, and that dragons grow rather quickly. It's been that long since I've seen a dragon."

"Then in four days, you will see a dragon once again."

Roran smiled again with a nod, "I look forward to seeing Fírnen once more. Farewell then."

"Farewell," Arya said. With that, Arya's reflection faded, and he was looking at his own rough reflection.

He looked at himself for a moment, rubbing his chin. His beard had grown fairly quickly since he shaved three days earlier. Perhaps he needed to shave his beard again before Arya and Nasuada arrived. He studied his features and noticed that he could see well defined lines on his forehead, as well as at the corners of his eyes. His laugh lines were just as well defined as his forehead lines.

He thought to himself, _I look as if I've aged ten years…and it's only been five and a half. Gods, time flows quickly without much excitement happening. I long for the old days again. I have not used my hammer much since Galbatorix was overthrown._

He lowered the mirror and glanced up at the sky as the workers began to crowd around the carved doorway once more. His mind wandered to Eragon once more, _I wonder how much older you look, Eragon. Perhaps you have not changed much since we last saw one another, just like Arya._

Zophia appeared at Roran's side and licked his right hand furiously. He glanced down at her and smiled when she started wagging her tail. He knelt down and petted her roughly, "But time doesn't seem to affect your playfulness and energy, does it?" Zophia responded with two wet kisses on his right cheek.

Roran chuckled, "No. You don't see how time flows. Time is irrelevant to you, right? It's all about fun and games." He playfully pushed the golden dog away with his hand and she spun back around, ready for another push. He pushed her away again and stood up, "Come, let's go to the forest."

At the mention of the forest, Zophia turned and sprinted in the direction of the woods, quickly weaving her way through the sea of legs.

ͼͽ

Arya, Fírnen and the elf scholar arrived first on the morning of the fourth day. By the time Roran reached them, a crowd had already formed around the large green dragon. Fírnen gazed down curiously at the mass of faces that surrounded him, as he had not seen so many two-legged-round-ears in quite some time.

"Roran," Arya said when he finally made it into the center of the circle surrounding Fírnen, "it's good to see you."

"And you as well, Queen Arya," Roran said as he bowed.

"Please Roran," Arya said as she shot a quick glance around, "there is no need for formalities with me. We are friends. There is no need for you to call me Queen."

Roran nodded with a soft chuckle, "Yes, sorry about that." He looked her over quickly for a moment. She had not changed one bit. Unlike the previous queen of the elves, her mother, Arya did not wear elaborate clothing. She wore a fairly simple green skirt like any other common female elf would. She wore the same leggings and boots that she wore every time she rode Fírnen, the same one's she wore when they saw Eragon off on his journey to lands beyond.

After five and a half years, Arya still looked stunning with her long flowing hair and dazzling eyes, and Roran then understood why Eragon had fallen for her. Two braids of her hair began directly above her forehead, and were pulled back tightly on either side of her head. They were woven together in a knot at the back of her head before both braids were allowed to hang down loosely from the woven knot. The braids created a sort of crown of hair. Arya's golden circlet itself rested on this crown of hair, snug between the braids and her head.

Then he looked up at Fírnen. The small dragon Roran had last seen on the way back to reunite with Katrina was no longer small. He was just as large as Saphira was before she and Eragon had left. "You look familiar," Roran said jokingly with a smile, "have we met before?"

Fírnen gave a confused snort, _Have you already forgotten me, Roran-Eragon's-brother? Has time already erased my name from your memory?_

Roran tossed his head back and let out a hearty laugh, "Of course I haven't forgotten you, Fírnen! It's just an expression of my people, a way some old friends greet each other after a long time of not seeing one another."

_Ah,_ said Fírnen as he fidgeted awkwardly and shuffled his wings, still confused by the expression. _Then you look familiar as well._

Roran chuckled, and Arya smiled and laughed silently. "Perhaps we should begin educating him in your culture," Arya stated. A light wind blew a loose strand of hair from the top of her head down over her forehead. She reached up and tucked the strand of hair under one of the braids.

"Perhaps," Roran said.

The elf scholar standing off to Arya's right side made an impatient movement that Arya noticed, "Ah yes. Roran, this is Hölgeron, my foremost expert on the Ancient language. He's very eager to see the discovery you've made."

Hölgeron bowed his head towards Roran. He was an elderly elf, perhaps the only elf Roran had seen that showed signs of significant age, not just because of his pure snow white hair. There were faint lines above his high cheek bones, as well as slight wrinkles at each corner of his eyes. The only other thing that blemished his rather pristine peach-colored and smooth skin was a single, very thin scar that Roran almost missed. The scar ran in a perfectly straight, diagonal line from the inner corner of his right eye, up and over the high bridge of his nose and stopped just above the left corner of his mouth.

"Well," said Roran, "let's not keep you waiting. Like you, I'm eager to find out myself what we've found. Please, follow me."

The crowd parted to let them through. The ground trembled slightly as Fírnen followed closely behind them.

Arya walked beside Roran as they made their way towards the collapsed cliff side, "I trust no one has been in the cave yet." Roran shook his head in response, "Good. I'd feel better if no one ventured in until we know exactly what this discovery is. For all we know, there could be a trap hidden somewhere within the tunnel."

Roran nodded, "Yes. I've had guards posted to watch the ladder for the last four days. Hopefully, when Nasuada arrives with Jeod and Elva, we'll know then if there are traps."

_Is that what we have come to see?_ Fírnen asked as he craned his neck slightly upwards. _A hole within the rock?_ Roran could sense a bit of disappointment in Fírnen's deep voice.

"It's not just a hole," Roran replied, "it's a mystery. I don't think that tunnel has seen the light of day for centuries."

A deep grunt of displeasure came from behind Roran, _You had promised that we would be going on an adventure._

"And an adventure this is," Arya said as she cast a glance over her right shoulder up at the majestic green dragon, "an adventure for knowledge."

_How is that an adventure?_ Fírnen asked with another snort. _I do not see how looking at a hole within the rock is an adventure._

"Yes, there is no adventure in looking at a hole in the rock, correct," Hölgeron stated, "but it's inside the hole where the adventure lies." He, Roran, and Arya began to ascend up the crude path that had been cleared in order to the carved doorway.

Fírnen on the other hand, took to nimbly scaling the jumble of rocks. His large paws easily covered rocks that were larger than Roran as he hopped from boulder to boulder. Whenever he encountered a boulder that was larger than the rest, yet still no larger than him, he jumped on top of it very skillfully and gracefully.

They reached the area that had been cleared of much of the larger debris, "Here it is. The stone in question is over here by the tents," Roran said as he had Arya and Hölgeron follow him.

Fírnen leaped nimbly to the top of the last large boulder on the edge of the cleared area. There he sat down on his haunches, looking content with his new perch, and studied his new surroundings for a moment. He turned his attention towards the opening in the rock, and peered inside with one huge eye. He snorted when he did not see anything interesting, turned his body towards the summer sun and basked in its warmth.

Hölgeron was the first to reach the carved doorway. He leaned over the face of the stone covering and his gentle fingers immediately fell upon the smooth surface of the molded stone, tracing the different patterns and runes. As Roran neared, he could tell the elderly elf was utterly enthralled by the new, but ancient runes.

Arya joined Hölgeron on his right side, while Roran stood on his left side. Arya leaned forward and placed her right hand on the flat surface of the doorway cover. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she scrutinized the runes. Roran leaned forward as well, but did not lean too close so as not to interrupt Hölgeron's train of thought.

Hölgeron tapped his finger on one of the runes near the top right of the molded doorway as he spoke to Arya, "What does this look like to you?"

"I was just thinking that it looks vaguely similar to the rune the dwarves use for the word 'water,'" Arya responded. Her eyes scanned the rest of the runes at the top of the doorway carving, but she recognized nothing else. She shook her head in disappointment, "But all these other runes, I don't recognize. None of these runes have any similarities to any other language."

"Are you sure?" asked Roran. Arya nodded in response and Roran sighed, "Then I guess my familiarity with the Ancient language is off." He pointed to a single rune in the very center of the stone cover, "I thought this looked a lot like the script used for the word 'dragon.'"

Hölgeron and Arya turned their focus to the rune in question. Unlike the rest of the runes on the doorway, the rune in question was the only one that was lifted, rather than engraved in the stone.

Arya gently touched the lifted rune and traced its form with her fingers. "He's right," she said with a trace of amazement in her voice. Hölgeron nodded. "The reason it looks similar to the Ancient script for 'dragon' is that it is the rune for 'dragon.'"

Hölgeron was silent for a minute while he scrutinized the rune with noticeable intensity. "It is the rune for 'dragon'…but something is off about it. The structure of the rune is different from Ancient runes I am familiar with. No Ancient runes utilize this type of elegant flowing style." He looked the whole doorway over very quickly, "All of these runes have nothing in common with the Ancient language, yet there is something about them that seems similar to the Ancient language."

Roran was confused by Hölgeron's observation, glancing at the elderly elf with a raised eyebrow, "But…I thought you just said that this rune is the same as the Ancient script for the word 'dragon.'" He suddenly experienced the feeling of stepping into a very deep and ancient mystery. "How then can these runes have nothing in common with the ancient language?" He reached up with his right hand and wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead as a result of the summer heat.

Hölgeron shook his head after a momentary silence, "I can't give you an answer. I…just cannot quite put my finger on it." He pointed to the 'dragon' rune, "Although this rune more than likely says 'dragon,' there's something about it that does not match with the Ancient script for 'dragon.' It is…very alien. It has a very alien feeling about it. All of these runes have an alien feeling about them." Roran studied the elderly elf, searching his expressionless face for something that could tell him the elf was either not telling the truth, or that he knew something about the runes he did not want to share.

But Roran's search was in vain; Hölgeron was telling the truth. The elf truly had no idea what the runes were and what language they were of.

The whole while, Fírnen carefully listened in on the conversation. He opened one eye when silence fell among the three, and peered through the gap between Roran and Hölgeron at the stone carving they were all so mesmerized by. His eye fell upon the lifted rune Hölgeron's finger was still pointing to.

He had never before seen such a rune in his life, yet it was strangely familiar to him. It was frighteningly familiar to him, as if it were written in his blood. He turned his head and focused on the alien, yet somehow familiar rune.

Suddenly, something within him clicked and he knew what the rune said. _Dragonkey,_ he said.

All three heads turned towards him upon hearing him speak the word.

"What?" Roran asked.

"Dragonkey?" Hölgeron asked as he turned back to the lifted rune.

"Fírnen," said Arya as she furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "what do you mean?"

_I know what it says,_ the majestic green dragon answered. He lowered his head and craned his neck forward so that it was only a few feet from Hölgeron's back. _Move,_ he said firmly.

Hearing Fírnen's firm command, Hölgeron stepped to the side and away from the stone covering, allowing Fírnen to view the whole of the doorway and its runes.

Minutes of silence passed by as Fírnen carefully scanned each rune with his stunning amber eyes. During that time, Baldor came running up the pathway to inform Roran that Nasuada had arrived with Elva and Jeod, as well as a small caravan of scholars. Roran told him to show them the way up before turning back to look at Fírnen. Baldor then left without another word.

A minute after Baldor had departed from their presence, Fírnen drew his neck back and let out a long huff of frustration. Roran could see from Fírnen's expression that the familiarity with the runes troubled him somewhat.

_I do not understand,_ Fírnen said, _I have never before seen these symbols in my life. Yet I know how to read them without any trouble, as if I have been reading them all my life._ He paused for a moment to shuffle his wings, indicating his unease before he continued, _They're...so familiar to me, as if they've been a part of my knowledge since I hatched._

"What does it say?" Arya asked, placing a hand on his right foreleg.

Fírnen cast a wary glance at the molded doorway before reading to them, _"Here lie the last of the Tøvrí, the Caretakers, and the last of their people. Descendants of the mightiest of the sky, companions of the mightiest of the waters and overseers of the mightiest of the lands. In life, we are born of the dragon. Let the name of our people, the Drëkøn, be forever engraved within the flow of time, be forever remembered and respected by all throughout history."_

When he had finished, he fidgeted in an uncomfortable manner and shivered slightly, sending a flurry of flashing green lights darting and zipping in all directions on the cliff face and the surrounding area. _The name,_ he said, _I don't know why…but I know it. Just like the runes, it's familiar to me._

Roran gazed up at the green, sensing that he was troubled by something, "Why are you afraid?"

Fírnen snorted, _I am not afraid!_ There was a moment of silence as Fírnen clenched and unclenched his claws, carving deep parallel scratches into the rock beneath him. He spoke again, _I do not like having knowledge that I do not recall ever gaining. I've never seen these runes, or heard of the Drëkøn, ever! Yet it is all familiar to me. Why?_ Fírnen's upper lip curled up slightly into a silent snarl.

Roran, Arya and Hölgeron were silent, as none of them had an answer for him.

"Maybe I can tell you why," said a young yet womanly voice. All eyes turned and beheld Elva, who was garbed in a short red silk dress that fell just passed her knees. The fringes of her collar, the arm openings and the bottom of the dress were embroidered in gold with a yellow gem the size of Roran's thumbnail knitted into the dresses collar, just above Elva's sternum.

Her stunning black hair had grown passed her shoulder blades, falling just short of her waistline. The mark on her forehead was still there and in full view, with her bangs combed in a way so as not to obscure the mark.

Nasuada appeared by her right side, along with Jeod. Both Nasuada and Jeod wore the same clothing Roran had last seen them wearing before he departed for the Palancar Valley five and a half years before. Since that time, like Roran, they had both aged as well. Elva had also changed, but only slightly. However she was much taller than when he had last seen her. Standing next to Nasuada, Roran could see she had grown quite a bit, for her head was level Nasuada's shoulder. Not only that, but Elva appeared much like any young and beautiful teenage girl.

Roran smiled, happy to see the familiar faces of his friends, "It's good to see all of you again."

"And you as well," Nasuada responded with a warm smile. "It has been quite some time since we've seen one another."

Jeod only gave a nod in Roran's direction before he hurried passed him and quickly leaned over the doorway cover by the time Roran glanced over his shoulder. Hölgeron joined Jeod, explaining to him what they had learned about the runes from Fírnen.

Fírnen lowered his head until he stared Elva directly in the eye, _You said you can provide me with an answer to why I know all these things._ His voice took on a very intimidating tone at that point; Roran could tell that Fírnen was still wary of Elva, that he did not fully trust her.

But Elva showed no hint of being intimidated by the dragon. If anything, she returned Fírnen's intimidating gaze. She nodded, "Yes, I can." She reached up with her right hand and placed it on his snout. Fírnen seemed to flinch at the touch, but remained still as his eyes crossed to keep Elva in his field of vision. "It is written in you blood," she said after a tense moment of silence, "the language of the Drëkøn. The knowledge of the Drëkøn has been passed down by your ancestors through the centuries, not by the voice, memories, or the mind, but by blood."

_But tell me little one, _Fírnen said after a moment of pondering Elva's answer, _who are or were the Drëkøn?_

Elva removed her hand from Fírnen's snout and gave a shrug, turning away from the dragon, "I can't answer that question, because I don't know the answer. The only way to find out is to go up there." She pointed up the cliff side at the opening within the rock face.

"I thought it would come to that," said Arya.

"That's what I feared," Roran added. Arya looked at him, and he spoke with an air of authority, "I know you are as interested and mystified by this little discovery of ours, but I'm not about to let anyone up there until we know it's safe."

"Elva," said Nasuada, "can you sense any traps in there?"

Elva grimaced as she concentrated on feeling the tunnel for magical and non-magical traps. After a moment she shook her head, "No. I can't feel anything that will cause death."

Nasuada cast Roran a questioning look, "Is that reassuring enough for you?"

With a sigh, Roran shook his head, "No, it's not. Just because Elva can't detect anything dangerous, doesn't mean there isn't. We don't know what we're dealing with here." He reached up with his right hand and wiped away droplets of sweat on his forehead again, "For all we know, there might be thousands of magical traps that use magic that we may have never dealt with before. Magic that is perhaps far older than the Ancient language itself."

"Roran is right Nasuada," Arya said, adding her own voice to his concern. "Before humans lived here, elves lived in Alagaësia for centuries. There has never been any record or any tale of any cave openings, or strange ruins." A gentle wind blew in from behind her, caressing her long and silky unbraided hair, "As much as Hölgeron has lectured me about Palancar Valley, he has never once mentioned anything of any inhabitants or ruins of any kind being present when elves first arrived in Palancar Valley."

"If that's true," Roran said as he stared up at the opening in the rock, "then that means that this cliff was always here, and in one piece. Since that cave is man-made, then perhaps we're dealing with a culture that precedes that of the elves…and the dwarves." He pursed his lips to wet moisten them as he continued, "That, in turn would mean that maybe there was also magic, magic far older, far more advanced and completely different than the magic we know of."

"Thus making it hard for Elva to detect," Nasuada concluded. She glanced at Elva, who gave her an apologetic look with a shrug. Then she sighed, "Very well, then we're going to have to find some way to detect this magic and disarm it, if there is any."

The whole while they were discussing, Hölgeron and Jeod were discussing amongst themselves about the meaning of the 'dragonkey' rune. They shot many ideas about its meaning between one another, until Jeod noticed the strange depression directly beneath the rune.

"Say, what does this look like to you?" he asked.

Hölgeron focused on the depression in question.

It was a long depression in the stone of about nine or so inches, set at least three or four inches within the stone. It started out wide at the top, then gradually narrowed until it came to a single small and sharp point at the bottom of the depression. The point was a small, almost as if it were a molding of the tip of some sort of sharp object. Where the depression was set about three inches within the stone, it was curved gracefully and smoothly.

Hölgeron glanced over his shoulder at Fírnen. His eyes moved down to the dragons claws, which were long and curved, much like the mysterious depression. His head snapped back towards the stone, his long white hair whipping outwards as he did.

"I think I have an idea," he said. He straightened up and turned towards the green dragon. "Fírnen, I require your assistance."

_My assistance?_ asked Fírnen as he blinked and cocked his head to one side. He hesitated for a moment before he snorted and hopped down from his perch a top the large boulder. The ground shook when he landed and Roran watched as small pebbles the size of wheat grains skipped up and down gently off the ground with each light step Fírnen took. He halted just a few feet from Hölgeron, and then sat back down on his haunches, _I have already told you what the runes say._

"Yes," Hölgeron replied with a nod of his head, "you have translated the runes for us. But I believe I have found what is meant by the word 'dragonkey.'"

Roran, Arya, Nasuada and Elva all came to stand near the rock, curious to hear what Hölgeron had managed to find. Jeod still scrutinized the strange depression below the 'dragonkey' rune, scratching his chin as he tried to decipher its meaning.

Hölgeron pointed to the depression and looked up at Fírnen, "Would you mind placing one of your claws within this groove?"

Puzzled, the green dragon looked down at his right paw for a moment, then looked at the groove below the rune again. He quickly gave Arya a quizzical glance, who nodded at him in turn. With Arya's reassurance, he lifted his large right paw and inserted his index claw within the groove, startling Jeod who had leaned forward for a closer inspection.

Silence fell; no one dared to breath. The only sounds were those of birds chirping and singing in the distance, dogs barking somewhere within the village, and drunken laughter coming from the village tavern.

_Is something supposed to-_ Fírnen began to ask, but was cut short when the 'dragonkey' rune suddenly began to radiate light. It was not a blinding light, but it was a very noticeable light the rune produced that all eyes present were able to see in the light of the midday summer sun.

Suddenly, a great whooshing sound could be heard above them. All heads turned towards the tunnel opening within the cliff face, just as a jet of cyan flames burst forth into the open air. Jeod let out a cry of surprise; Nasuada took a step back with a frightened look on her face and placed her left hand over her breast; Elva raised her hand to shield her face from the wave of heat she expected, but no heat ever came; Arya and Hölgeron both had looks of awe on their faces as they beheld the great flames; and Roran only watched with his mouth slightly open. Fírnen on the other hand remained rather calm while gazing up at the great jet of flames.

A minute passed before the cyan flames finally died down. When the flames had at last extinguished, there was no trace of smoke in the air and a light blue glow filled the tunnel opening.

Roran looked back at everyone around him. Besides Fírnen who had at that point glanced down at Roran, they all still gaped at the tunnel. Without a word, he jogged over to the flimsy ladder leading up to the tunnel, and took a firm grip on one of the wooden footholds.

Nasuada saw him begin to ascend the ladder and shouted, "Roran, don't! It might still not be safe!" But Roran paid no head to her call of concern, for he was already a third of the way up the two story ladder.

He quickly made his way up, eager to discover what was inside the tunnel. His right foot missed a foothold twice as he neared the top of the ladder.

As Nasuada watched Roran's ascent with concern, a female voice spoke from behind Arya, "Still the hard-headed fool he's always been, I see."

All heads turned to see who had spoken. It was Angela. The werecat Solembum, in his cat form, was with her as well, emerging from behind Angela's ankle-low dark green blouse.

"Angela!" said Nasuada, a bit surprised by the sudden and unannounced appearance of the herbalist. "What a surprise! It's good to see you! I wasn't aware that Roran had contacted you about the discovery."

Angela tossed her curly brown hair over her left shoulder and smirked, "He didn't. I came here by my own accord after my source told me of this discovery." She looked up at the tunnel just as Roran placed his right hand on the edge of the tunnel floor.

Nasuada placed a hand on her hip, "When will you ever tell us how you and your sources find out about these things? No one except us and the whole of Oestaerya knows about this discovery."

Angela wagged a finger at Nasuada and smiled slyly, "Ah, that's where you're wrong. The news of the discovery has already spread outside of Oestaerya." She smirked again, "And what fun is there in revealing my secrets?"

Nasuada sighed upon hearing Angela's answer, "That answer does not satisfy me." When the herbalist shrugged in response, Nasuada added, "At least promise me…promise us that you will one day tell us your secrets."

Angela nodded as she glanced up towards Roran, who hadby then hoisted himself up into the tunnel, "Yes, when that day comes, I will. But it won't be anytime soon."

Solembum padded his way over to Fírnen. When he'd reached Fírnen's side, he jumped up, kicked his way up the dragons side and then into the saddle. Once in the saddle, the werecat made himself comfortable, tucking his front paws beneath his belly as he lay down and faced the cliff.

All eyes returned their focus towards Roran. Roran dusted himself off before he gazed down the length of the tunnel that extended deep into the cliff. He stared, mesmerized by the glowing runes and glyphs that lined the walls of the tunnel.

"Roran," Angela called up to him, "care to share with us what you see?"

But Roran did not hear her. Instead, he slowly walked deeper into the tunnel, disappearing from everyone's view.

"I guess that means it's safe to go up," said Nasuada. She turned her head towards Arya and Hölgeron, "If you are going up, tell me what you find."

Arya nodded and then she and Hölgeron started towards the ladder. Before Arya reached the ladder, however, Angela reached out and grabbed the ropes of the ladder. She looked to Arya and smiled, "Better if I went first. Wouldn't want anything to happen to the queen of the elves now, would we?" Arya opened her mouth to object, but instead she kept her tongue and smiled. With that, Angela turned and quickly ascended the ladder with surprising ease.

"Nasuada," said Jeod, "you're not going in yourself?"

Nasuada shook her head, "No, I would rather stay safe. Like Roran said, we're probably dealing with something far more ancient than the ancient language. Who knows what kind of dangers might be inside."

"Then I trust you will allow me to go with the elves," Jeod stated with a somewhat pleading look. "I do not wish to miss out on such a rare opportunity."

"You may," Nasuada replied with a subtle nod of her head, "although this rare opportunity will not be going anywhere, I must say." Jeod grinned and thanked her before hurrying off to join Arya and Hölgeron.

"I will go too," Elva said as she followed after Jeod. Angela had already climbed into the tunnel by then, peering over the edge and signaling for Arya and Hölgeron to begin climbing up. Arya allowed Hölgeron to go before her.

_I still do not understand the fascination behind ancient ruins,_ Fírnen said to both Nasuada and Solembum while he watched. _True, I have knowledge of something that neither I nor any of us have ever heard of before, but how is that less interesting than a hole in the rock?_ The green dragon lay down on the gravel. Hölgeron had reached the top of the ladder, and Arya began her quick and nimble ascent.

_You're not alone,_ Solembum replied as he yawned, showing his long white fangs.

Nasuada let out a soft giggle as she walked over and leaned against Fírnen's side, "Humans have a natural curiosity of the old and unknown. As do elves. Both humans and elves have a need to discover their origins, to find out where and when they both started life in this world. It's written in our blood."

By then, Arya was climbing into the tunnel, and Jeod allowed Elva to go first. A fairly strong breeze rolled through, causing the ladder to sway as Elva reached the halfway point. Jeod took hold of the bottom of the ladder to hold it steady, allowing Elva to continue her ascent.

The strong breeze also stirred the hanging locks of Nasuada's long hair, which was tied in a bundle on the back of her head. Seeing the locks swaying from side to side, Solembum pricked his ears forward and rolled onto his side in Fírnen's saddle. He twisted his head until his chin pointed up to the sky, then batted at Nasuada's hanging locks with one paw.

_But what drives humans and elves to discover their beginnings?_ Solembum asked as he took another swat at Nasuada's swaying hair. _Can they not be satisfied with what they already know? That humans and elves came to Alagaësia a very long time ago?_ He quickly swiped at her hair a few more times.

Nasuada looked up at Solembum over her right shoulder. The werecat gave her an innocent look and purred, closing his eyes to show his content. "It's not that simple. Humans and elves both came from another land. Where that land is, and how long they both have lived there before travelling to Alagaësia, no one knows. It's that lack of knowledge that drives us to discover our origins and history of our ancient ancestors."

She turned her head again and looked up at Fírnen this time, "Just like your lack of knowledge of these Drëkøn people. You know their language somehow, but you don't know how you know it, and so you feel the need to discover who the Drëkøn are in order to find out the origin of this strange knowledge."

Fírnen responded with a snort as he looked away, _As if you know what my desires are._

Nasuada smiled at his statement and turned her gaze back up to the tunnel. Elva had reached the top of the ladder, but was hesitant of releasing her hold on it. Arya extended her hand down to her, but she hesitated to take Arya's hand as well. She glanced down over her shoulder at the ground below. It was a long drop from where she was.

Not wanting to fall, she looked back up, and with a nervous yelp, she let go of the wooden foothold with her right hand and quickly reached up towards Arya. Arya grasped Elva by her wrist firmly, hoisted her up into the tunnel with relative ease and gently set her feet on the floor.

Jeod then placed his foot on the ladder to begin his climb up. But he stopped when he heard Horst shouting, "Wait! Hold for a moment!"

The big burly man came jogging up another crude path to the cleared area. In his left hand, he held Roran's hammer. He slowed down to a brisk walk as he approached Jeod. He extended his arm out and gave the hammer to Jeod, "Katrina felt he would need this today. Wouldn't want Roran Stronghammer to be without a hammer now, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't," Jeod replied as he accepted Roran's hammer. "I'm sure he won't have need of it, but I'll give it to him nonetheless." He tucked the handle of the hammer under his belt, then turned and began the two story climb.

"Thanks," Horst said as he stepped back to watch Jeod.

A few minutes passed by before Jeod finally reached the top of the ladder. Arya reached down and offered her hand. He took hold of it, and stepped up the few remaining footholds as she helped him into the tunnel.

From down below, Horst called up to them, cupping his hands around his mouth, "Oi! You lot better come back out of there alive, you hear? And I mean all of you!"

ͼͽ

The ceiling was high enough for a person of six feet in height to walk comfortably upright, but the width of the tunnel restricted them to walking in single-file. It was only wide enough that Roran's shoulders did not brush against the walls of the tunnel. As soon as he took his hammer from Angela, he turned and set off down the tunnel. The rest of the group followed after him.

"I wonder what these runes read," Jeod said, glancing left and right at the glowing runes.

"They tell of the entire history of the Drëkøn," Arya answered from in front of him.

"How do you know that?"

Arya kept her gaze forward, "Fírnen is reading them through my eyes."

Jeod had to digest her answer for a moment before he seemed to remember what he knew of dragons and their Riders. "Ah, right. I had forgotten that you two can do that."

Angela looked over Roran's shoulder to see down the length of the tunnel, "I hope this isn't going to go on forever into the bowels of the earth."

"We'll know until we reach the end of the tunnel," Roran replied over his shoulder.

Angela frowned at Roran's answer, but did not say anything.

"We should reach the end soon," Elva called down the tunnel to Roran. "I think there's something blocking the passage. Roran, whatever you do, you cannot touch it. None of us except Arya may touch it." Roran stopped upon hearing that. Hölgeron turned and glanced down at Elva, giving her a questioning look with a raised eyebrow.

Arya looked at the back of Elva's head, which was faintly illuminated by the cyan light the runes on the walls radiated, "Why me? What would happen if anyone else touched it?"

Elva was silent for a moment as she concentrated on what her foresight was telling her. Then she answered, "Because if anyone else touches it…we will all die."

"All of us?" Jeod asked nervously. But Elva did not respond.

"Wonderful," said Roran as he resumed walking down the length of the tunnel.

Eventually, they came upon the obstruction that Elva had warned Roran of. Much to his relief, the immediate area in front of the obstruction opened into a small bowl shape, allowing all six of them to stand tightly together. Unlike the walls of the tunnel, there were no glowing runes and glyphs on the walls of this bowl.

It was dark within the tight space, prompting Hölgeron to conjure up a werelight.

The floor, walls and ceiling were all molded seamlessly together. The floor curved upwards smoothly so that it flowed upwards to become the walls. The walls in turn curved back smoothly as well until they had become the ceiling. The floor, walls and ceiling showed no signs of tool marks, indicating that the bowl had been molded by magic.

Angela, Hölgeron and Elva shifted around until Arya stood next to Roran. The werelight moved over Arya's head until it was just above and in front of her, casting a large dark shadow from her head on the wall directly behind her. She leaned closer to the obstruction to scrutinize its surface.

It was a stone slab, perfectly smooth with not a single blemish or mark. Where the stone, walls, floor and ceiling met there was a minute gap between them, indicating that the stone was able to move. In the very center of the stone, was what looked to be an imprint of a four-fingered hand tipped with claws at the end of each finger. In the center of the imprint was the distinct shape of the gedwëy ignasia.

"Elva is right," Arya stated upon seeing the hand imprint, "only I may touch the rock. The lock on this stone slab is specifically designed for a Rider to open."

"Well," Jeod said as he fidgeted impatiently, "what are you waiting for? Open it already!"

Arya glanced a Roran, who nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be right behind you," he said.

With that, she turned her eyes back to the hand imprint, lifted her right hand up and reached for the imprint. She hesitated for a moment however; for some reason, there was a very strange feeling at the back of her mind, as if someone were crawling through her thoughts and memories. But with a shake of her head, she placed her palm on the stone when she'd dispelled whatever had troubled her. The surface of the stone was frigid, as if it had been sitting out in the cold of a Palancar Valley winter.

Cyan light pulsed three times beneath her palm before the light radiated out across the surface of the stone in a circle. In less than a second the whole surface of the stone slab was pulsating with cyan light.

Then, the light faded.

Arya kept her palm on the cold stone, unsure of what had just happened or if there was something else she needed to do or say. The whole while, the strange feeling that something or someone was crawling through her thoughts and memories persisted. She closed off her mind to everyone around her except Fírnen. But still the feeling persisted, making her uncomfortable. She glanced at Hölgeron, who also seemed just as uncomfortable as her.

They waited for a few minutes, expecting something to happen. But when nothing happened, Angela spoke up, "Well, that was exciting. Seems whatever was supposed to happen, didn't happen. Looks like we came here to this cramped tunnel for no rea-"

She was stopped midsentence when a distant, deep boom could be heard all around them. A series of smaller, yet still deep booms could be heard after that, albeit much closer. The stone floor beneath them vibrated with each of the booms; it was almost as if a chain reaction of magical explosions had been triggered.

"What's that?" Jeod asked in fright as he glanced about him frantically, his eyes visibly wide with fear.

Arya removed her hand from the surface of the stone slab when the floor, walls, ceiling and even the air vibrated tremendously. A single deep boom sounded all around them, and then a great deep growl, along with another series of small deep booms, could be heard from somewhere above them. It was as if a very large and heavy object were being dragged across the surface of another very large and heavy object. Arya furrowed her eyebrows and grimaced slightly as her eardrums vibrated almost painfully from the great heavy vibration in the air.

Outside of the tunnel, Nasuada looked frantically around her as the ground beneath her feet shook violently. "What's going on?"

_An earthquake?_ Solembum asked as he flattened his ears against his head. His pupils dilated as he swiveled his head to look behind him when he heard shouts. A group of workers were down on the ground with their knees bent to steady themselves as the ground shook.

_I did not think there were ever earthquakes in Alagaësia,_ said Fírnen as he let out a hiss, his pupils narrowing while he stared up at the tunnel opening.

"They rarely ever occur," Nasuada said as she placed a hand on Fírnen's side to keep herself upright. She looked up at the tunnel opening and thought to herself, _What on earth are they doing in there?_

Inside the tunnel, a great groan emanated from the very rock itself all around them. It was a noise like none of them had ever heard before; as if some huge, primeval and ancient entity had awoken from its ancient slumber and let out a deep guttural groan as it stretched its ancient bones.

Suddenly, the stone slab in front of Arya shifted. A great curtain of dust and sand fell from the seam where the ceiling and stone met, choking the air with dust as it billowed up around their feet. As everyone covered their noses with some part of their clothing, the stone slab began to tremble slightly as it slowly rose up into the rock. All the while more dust and sand fell from the seam, filling the bowl with more choking dust.

For five more bone shaking minutes, the stone slab rose up into an unseen space above in the rock. The whole of the rock around them trembled and groaned as the slab rose, while more nearby deep booms frequently jarred the floor.

Finally, the bottom of the stone slab reached the top of the seam and stopped abruptly with a loud boom. The groaning of the rock and the series of small booms around them continued for a few more brief seconds afterwards before all went silent, and the rock around them ceased quieted down.

With a wave of her hand, Angela rid the bowl of the choking dust and fresh air filled the space once more.

"Glad that's over with," Jeod muttered under his breath.

"I feel as if I were at the very heart of an earthquake," Roran said with a shaky voice. Although the rock had already stopped trembling, he still felt his bones shaking and trembling from the experience, and his teeth chattered inside his head.

"Well," Angela said while dusting herself off, "that was very dramatic. Never had that kind of experience opening a door." She finished brushing the dust off of her light cloak and then turned her gaze into the darkness ahead of her.

All eyes turned to the darkness ahead as well. Beyond the opening that was previously hidden behind the stone slab with the gedwëy ignasia on it, stairs descended downwards into the perpetual darkness. The tunnel seemed to widen greatly beyond the point of the opening.

"So," Angela said as she glanced from Roran, the elves and then to Jeod, "who is going to take the first step into the abyss?"

ͼͽ

Roran stepped into the darkness of the wide stairwell. The werelight that Hölgeron had cast followed after him, floating just behind and above his head. He placed his hand on the head of his hammer, anxiety gripping him as he slowly descended into the darkness with each step. He dared not to breath loudly, but the jarring experience he had just gone through made it difficult for him to breath calmly since his heart raced madly.

Arya appeared by his side, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Glancing at her, Roran could tell from the way her eyes darted from left to right that she was expecting something to leap out at them from the darkness.

Hölgeron and Angela were right behind them, followed by Elva and Jeod.

No one spoke a word during the whole of their descent. The only sounds that could be heard were the scuffles their boots made against the dusty surface of the steps, and the echoes they produced. For ten, tense minutes they descended down into darkness, side by side and completely silent.

As Roran neared what he assumed was the bottom of the staircase, a flicker of light coming from somewhere in front of him caught his eye. Arya seemed to notice the same thing as well, for she stopped at the same moment he did. She glanced over her shoulder at Hölgeron, who released the spell for the werelight, plunging them into total darkness.

Roran waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He blinked a few times before he could see the light that had caught his attention.

The faint blue light seemed to be shimmering on the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, like the reflection cast off by the suns light on the surface of a lake or the ocean.

Arya continued down the stairs again, as did Roran and the others. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she and Roran hugged the walls to stay in the shadows. Hölgeron, Angela, Elva and Jeod remained in the shadows on the stairs. Roran hugged the wall on the left while Arya hugged the wall on the right and together they slowly shuffled their way to the opening a few feet ahead of them.

The entire opening was lit up by the blue shimmering light that was coming from somewhere within the room it led into.

Roran reached the edge of the opening first, and peered inside the surprisingly large room. Like the bowl that he and the others had entered from, the floor, walls and ceiling were all joined together smoothly. He could see the dark openings of other tunnels leading in different directions out of the large room. The ceiling rose about fifty feet from the floor of the room. A single, rather large stalactite reached down from the very center of the ceiling to merge with the floor, breaking the otherwise smooth flowing curvature of the rest of the room.

As Arya peered around the edge of the tunnel opening, Roran looked towards the center of the room again, just below the stalactite. He couldn't exactly make out what he saw, but he could see what appeared to be three circular basins that rose up to about knee height from the stone floor. The formations were arranged in a triangular shape, each spaced a few feet from each other. The blue shimmering light seemed to come from the circle to Roran's left.

In the space formed by the triangular shape of the circles, where the massive stalactite merged with the floor, he thought he saw something distinct within the mineralized stone column.

"Roran," Arya whispered, "do you see that? In the column."

Roran nodded in response. He could not quite make out what he saw within the stone, but he could see something…seemingly organic to its shape. "I'm going in to get a better look," he said.

"By yourself?" asked Angela as she appeared by his side. He had not even heard her approach.

He glanced at her for a moment, but didn't say anything. Then he turned to Elva, whose face was half obscured by shadows. The mark on her forehead seemed to glow in the faint blue light of the inner room. "Is there anything that will cause our deaths?" Roran asked.

Elva immediately shook her head, but furrowed her eyebrows to show her confusion, "No. I can't even sense any magic."

Roran looked back towards Angela, who was trying to make out the distinct shape in the stalactite column, "I go first. If nothing happens to me," he moved his eyes over to Arya, "then the rest of you can follow."

Arya turned her attention to him, _He puts his friends' lives before his own,_ she said in her mind, intending for Fírnen to hear. _He concerns himself too much with our well-being, rather than his own._

_He values the lives of his comrades,_ Fírnen replied. _Or…he is overconfident._

Arya smirked at Fírnen's remark and watched as Roran gained his composure before venturing out from the shadows, _Not Roran. He is not the kind to be overconfident. But he does have a strong will to protect his friends. That much I can say with certainty._ He stepped out of the shadows and into the shimmering light of the room. As he passed through the opening, he pulled his hammer free from his belt.

He shuffled his left foot forward carefully, testing the floor for any magical traps that might have been embedded into the very stone itself. When nothing happened, Roran sighed with relief, not realizing that he had been holding his breath. Slowly, he walked out towards the center of the room, testing every inch of the solid stone floor with the toes of his boots.

When he'd reached the circular basin on the right, he peered down to see that it was filled with rocky soil. In the very center, resting on the rocky soil was a large round stone about the size of his head.

He turned to glance over his right shoulder, and signaled for the others to follow. It was then that he realized he was sweating. He reached up and wiped the droplets of sweat from his brow. It was very warm within the room. He had not noticed the change in temperature at all, for it had been very cold within the tunnel.

Angela and Arya reached Roran before the others; Arya still held her hand on the hilt of her sword. The two of them peered down at the large round stone in the center of the basin. Hölgeron, however, had seen something that caught his interest and walked away from the others. Jeod followed him as well, while Elva stood at the edge of the basin where the blue shimmering light came from. The witch-child's face became illuminated by the rippling light that came from within, and her eyes seemed to grow wide with amazement.

"What do you think it is?" Roran asked as Arya knelt down and inspected the large round stone more closely.

"It looks much like a stone," Arya replied and then paused.

"Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious," said Angela, taking advantage of Arya's pause.

"But it is not a stone," Arya continued as if she hadn't heard the herbalist. "It's an egg."

"Say what?" Angela asked as she raised her eyebrows high. "An egg? An egg of what?"

"Fanghur," Arya answered almost immediately. "I've only seen a Fanghur egg once in my life, and this looks exactly like what I saw."

"But…we're not in the Beor Mountains," Roran stated as he looked curiously at the stone-like egg. Its surface was very smooth, save for a few faint raised vein-like marks that covered parts of its surface. Other than that, it resembled any ordinary stone. He concluded that its close resemblance to a stone was an evolutionary trait to help the Fanghur survive in the wild. "Why is it here?"

Arya only shook her head in response and furrow her eyebrows, unable to answer his question.

Angela finally took notice of the temperature in the room. "When did it get unbearably warm in here?" she asked, taking out a handkerchief from her cloak and wiping her brow and temple.

"Arya," Elva said from behind Angela, still looking down into the circle she stood next to, "I think you need to see this as well."

Roran, Arya and Angela stepped over to the adjacent circle; their faces too became illuminated by the rippling light coming from within the basin as they peered down into it.

"It's…water," said Angela. She leaned forward and dipped her right index finger into the rippling water, which seemed to emit its own light and tasted the water clinging to her finger. "Freshwater."

"But look at that," Elva said, pointing to a small orb within the shallow circular pool of water.

The small orb was no larger than Roran's fist. As he studied it carefully, he realized that the light was not being emitted by the water, but rather by the orb itself. A glowing wave-like band encircled the whole of the orb where it met the water. Smaller glowing vein-like structures stretched out over the darker portions of the orb from the glowing band.

"Don't tell me this is also an egg," Angela said as she bent forward and placed her hands on the curved edge of the circular stone pool. She glanced up at Arya, waiting for a response from the elf queen.

After a few minutes of silence, Arya nodded her head, "It is." She furrowed her eyebrows, however, seemingly unsure of her own answer.

Roran noticed the stumped look on her face, and glanced from her to the small orb and back, "But you're not entirely sure about what it is an egg of, right?"

She shook her head in response, "No, I know what it is…but the fact that it is in freshwater is what seems off about it." She blinked twice, then turned her gaze to Roran and Angela, "Have you ever heard of the Nïdhwal?"

Roran returned his gaze back to the orb in the water, his eyes wide with surprise. Angela looked up at Arya in disbelief, "That's impossible! Nïdhwal's only live in the ocean. This is freshwater."

"I am aware of that," said Arya, "that is why I'm not entirely sure that it is the egg of a Nïdhwal."

"Then what could it be of?" Elva asked, still marveling at the glowing veins of the suspicious egg.

Roran looked to his left, passed the mineralized stone column to the other circular basin. Suddenly, it hit him, "We may not know if this is really the egg of a Nïdhwal, but we know for certain that these are both eggs." He looked at Arya, who was giving him a quizzical look, "And we all know that both the Fanghur and Nïdhwal are cousins of the dragon."

After a moment, Arya seemed to realize what he was implying. Her eyes moved to the third circular formation behind the column as she recalled what Fírnen had recited from the stone cover outside the tunnel, "_'Descendants of the mightiest of the sky, companions of the mightiest of the waters and overseers of the mightiest of the lands.'_ If both of these are here, then that means…" She let her sentence trail off as she stepped around Elva and made her way passed the freshwater basin to the third circular basin, with Roran right behind her.

As Angela stepped between the circular pool and the column to follow, she finally noticed the patterns in the surface of the mineralized stone. She stopped to inspect it more closely. She instantly recognized the distinct shape of a man's forearm. However, instead of a smooth surface like that of skin, she made out the distinct pattern of scales. She stepped back to stand in between the basins with the Fanghur and Nïdhwal eggs and faced the column.

She looked down to where the column met the floor. Rather than the wavy and irregular formations normally associated with the meeting of a stalactite and the floor of a cave, the stone was shaped to resemble legs, albeit legs much more animalistic than human. The feet resembled those of a dragons hind paws, with three clawed toes on each foot. A smaller, fourth clawed toe was also present, slightly higher up on the foot than the other toes.

Looking up, Angela expected to see a head. Instead, the flowing folds of the mineralized stone covered where the head would have been. The flowing folds of the stalactite also flowed over the shoulders. She returned her focus to the body of what she believed was a statue of a man with very reptilian characteristics. Like the rest of the body, she distinguished scales covering the torso and chest of the statue.

_Whoever molded this statue paid a lot of attention to detail_, she thought to herself as she admired the craftsmanship of the statue.

"I knew it," she heard Roran's voice exclaim from somewhere behind the column, "it is a dragon egg!"

Then Angela noticed something protruding from the center of the statues chest just above its crossed arms, something that reflected the shimmering light from the circular pool. She glanced toward Roran and Arya; they were pouring all their attention over the dragon egg they had just discovered.

Then she glanced over at Jeod and Hölgeron, who were curiously inspecting what looked to her like very large and horizontal black depressions in the walls of the room. She had noticed the black depressions in the walls earlier herself; five in a stack between each doorway from the floor to just below the tall arched doorways. Elva was still mesmerized by the Nïdhwal egg.

_Guess I'll just inspect this myself_, Angela thought to herself as she took a step closer to the statue. The object seemed deeply embedded within the center of the statues chest, exactly where the sternum was. The object glinted as the shimmering light from the pool passed over its surface once more, and she realized that it was a crystal she was looking at.

But there was something curious about the gem that Angela could not quite put her finger on. She had to get closer to it; something told her to touch it.

Cautiously, she reached up and gingerly touched one of the uneven surfaces of the gem with the tip of her index finger. To her surprise, the gem was very warm, as if it had been sitting in a bed of cooling embers.

Suddenly, she felt electricity running through her body, and an instant later small blue arcs of lighting sprung up from the gem and jumped across the surface of the statue. Angela jumped back, holding her finger as if someone had just slammed a heavy book shut on it. It hadn't hurt hurt her however, but the shock she received had been enough to startle her and cause her to gasp loudly. She watched as the small arcs of electricity bounced their way up the column to the ceiling and down the statue to the floor.

Hearing Angela's gasp, Roran and Arya turned to see what had happened. Jeod, Hölgeron and Elva looked over as well. Arya and Roran raced over to stand next to Angela; Roran tightened his grip on the handle of his hammer as he watched the blue lighting travel in bouncing arcs across the ceiling.

"Are you alright?" Arya asked. She reached out for Angela's hand to make sure she was not injured.

"Of course I'm alright!" Angela snapped back, pulling her hand away from Arya's outstretched hand. "A little shock won't harm me."

Jeod and Hölgeron watched the arcs of electricity quickly bounce around the entire surface of the rooms ceiling and floor. Jeod watched the arcs on the ceiling make their way down the walls while Hölgeron watched them pass by their feet and up the walls.

"What kind of magic is this?" Jeod asked out loud as the arcs from the ceiling merged with the arcs from the floor. No sooner had they made contact, the blue arcs of lightning seemed to faze into the very rock itself.

As soon as the arcs disappeared, the strange black horizontal hollows in the rock walls suddenly became lit up by runes within the hollow.

"Aha!" Jeod exclaimed as he rushed back to one of the illuminated hollows in the wall, "I knew this was made of crystal!" He tapped the face of the glass like crystal that sat in what had just been a black hollow.

The crystal glowed with blue light from the runes on the inside of the hollow, illuminating imperfections and bubbles of air in the crystal. But that was not all that was inside the hollow.

Hölgeron stepped beside Jeod. "It's a tomb," Hölgeron stated as he bent forward and placed his hands on his knees to peer inside the crystal. "These are all makeshift graves," he said. Jeod looked around the room, counting at least forty more of the crystal encased depressions.

Encased within the crystal Hölgeron stared into…was what appeared to be a man with very reptilian characteristics. The head of the figure was what caught him off guard; it was the head of a dragon.

"_'We are born of the dragon,'_" he recited what Fírnen had translated for them from the runes of the stone cover outside the tunnel.

Jeod bent forward to peer inside the crystal as well, "Unbelievable…I didn't think it literally meant 'born of the dragon.'" He was speechless for a while as he studied the features of the dragon-human-like creature. Then he found his voice again, "So…this is what a Drëkøn looks like."

Roran held his hammer ready to do battle with whatever might appear before them. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw Arya and Angela staring straight ahead of him. His instincts suddenly told him that something or someone was directly in front of him.

Snapping his head back towards the center of the room, towards the stalactite column, his eyes widened with disbelief.

The statue was melting away. Rather, the stone of what he thought was a statue was melting. Where the stone melted away completely, he could see real scales.

Within a matter of minutes, the stone melted away to reveal organic feet, legs and lower torso.

"It wasn't a statue," he heard Angela say in awe. "The stone only covered the…" Her words faded as she looked on in awe.

"It only covered the real thing," Arya said as she appeared by Roran's side, sword in hand. "The stone was encasing a real Drëkøn."

Jeod, Hölgeron and Elva all rushed over and stood by Angela, intent on watching while being safe near friends.

Suddenly, a very deep masculine and powerful voice spoke in their minds at once, _Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya._

Roran could not help but cringe and grit his teeth as the voice seemed to resonate inside his mind. It was like a clap of thunder that echoed throughout a mountain valley. When the voice fell silent, he glanced at Arya who also cringed as the voice spoke. "Does Fírnen know what it said?" he asked as he kept one eye on the Drëkøn as more and more of the stone that encased it melted away from its reptilian body.

Arya was silent for a moment, listening as Fírnen translated the alien words for her. Then, she recited the translation, "_'No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.'_"

Roran turned his wide eyed gaze back to the Drëkøn. All of the stone that had encased its body had already melted away and fallen to the floor in a puddle of viscous, glowing molten rock around the dragon-like feet of the Drëkøn. "How does it know our names?"

That's when the flowing folds of the stalactite that covered the Drëkøn's head began to shift like the many writhing bodies of a mass of snakes. The Drëkøn unfolded its arms, and lifted its right foot, and stepped into the puddle of molten rock. Slowly, Roran saw something emerge from the writhing folds of the stalactite; scales, and teeth.

Jeod gasped from somewhere behind Roran, "It's alive!"

First, nostrils emerged from the stalactite, then a snout. Gradually, an entire head emerged from the stone…the head of a dragon. The Drëkøn stepped forward with its left foot, and the rest of its head slid out from the writhing folds of stone. No sooner had the Drëkøn's horns exited the stone, the folds of the stalactite stopped moving.

Everyone stood and stared with shock, awe, and wonder at the living Drëkøn. It was a sight to see.

It had the feet, legs and head of a dragon, yet it stood on two legs and possessed the body of a muscular man. The scales covering much of its body were many shades of dark and light green colors, while the scales on the underside of its lower jaw and down its torso were all a very light green, almost tan color. A pair of large horns protruded from the top of its skull, just behind its eye sockets, while much smaller horns adorned the back of its jaw line.

The Drëkøn took a deep breath through its nostrils, then exhaled, and opened its eyes as it released its breath. Its very dragon-like sky blue eyes immediately fell upon Roran and Arya…and then it spoke in a very deep, powerful and masculine voice.

"I know your names because I must," the Drëkøn stated firmly. "I am Ŝtanin, The Rider Forgotten By Time…and I have been waiting sixty-five hundred years for you Roran Stronghammer, Earl of Palancar Valley and Argetlam Arya, Queen of the Elves."

**Ä**

**End of Chapter 2**

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names:<strong>

**Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
><strong>**Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm<br>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<strong>  
>Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon<br>Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
>Fírnen: FEER-nin<br>Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
>Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks<br>**Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on**  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh  
>Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah<br>****Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<strong><br>Ŝtanin: STAN-in  
>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)<strong>**


	3. The Draconian Arrival

**4/25/12** **So, I started this chapter on the 21st, and finished it...early yesterday. New record for me! Never banged out 10+ pages in four days...ever. Especially pages where the lines are double spaced. But anyway, this chapter was fun to write, because I got to introduce two new characters! Althought, I have a favor to ask of my readers. On the topic of decriptions, I felt that I didn't describe one of the character's very well, the Urgal character. I'm asking my readers a favor to please leave me some suggestions on how I can improve upon the Urgal characters description. Thanks! Now, enjoy the read guys!**

* * *

><p>421/2012

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by and is copyrighted to Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

The Draconian Arrival

Roran and Arya glanced at one another, unsure of how to respond to the ancient creatures words.

As he gaped at the Drëkøn, Roran took the time to study the Drëkøn named Ŝtanin more carefully. He noticed that there were leather straps that wrapped around the Drëkøn's shoulders and under his armpits. Roran concluded that these leather straps were most likely used to hold the rather large white greatsword that hung from Drëkøn's back, which he estimated the blade alone was at least five and a half feet in length.

The only other garment Roran could identify on the Drëkøn was a pair of tight and short cloth pants that ended just above the knees. Roran assumed it was made of cloth, but in the blue light that illuminated the room, it was hard to tell.

As Roran looked up again to study the Drëkøn's features, he could hardly guess how old the ancient being really was. He had seen Glaedr before he died, but Roran had been able to tell that the gold dragon had seen many years in his lifetime. But Ŝtanin appeared to be just as young as Fírnen.

The only things Roran could see that indicated that the Drëkøn had seen many years of experience were three large parallel scars marking his face. The scars began next left horn several inches behind his left eye, and traveled down the length of his muzzle at a diagonal angle over his left eye before tapering out just below his bottom lip at the end of his muzzle.

However, there were two larger scars; longer than Roran's arms and about as wide as his outstretched hands. The top most scar started just below the Drëkøn's right collarbone and down his torso ending just below his left pectoral muscle. The lower scar started on the right side of the Drëkøn's ribcage and ran parallel to the upper scar before disappearing underneath the waistline of the pants Ŝtanin wore, perhaps ending just below his left hip.

Angela finally spoke first, "So…you've been waiting for thousands of years…for these two alone? Come now, you couldn't have been waiting that long in a stone prison for a revered warrior and a queen of the elves. There has to more to it."

Ŝtanin moved his large eyes from Arya, to Roran, then to Angela, "No, not these two alone. I have also been waiting for the one…whose past is shrouded in a fog of mystery. The one who's past that not even her comrades know about."

Roran cast a glance over his shoulder at Angela and Elva shot a look up at her as well. All eyes except Arya's were on the herbalist.

"You seem to have put me in the spotlight," Angela said as she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right. "What do you need me for?"

The Drëkøn blinked once before answering, "That, I shall explain in due time." His eyes fell upon Roran and Arya again, "First, I must assure you that I am not your enemy. I have not been waiting all these centuries just so that I may attack you."

Roran hesitated at first, fidgeting as he decided whether to tuck his hammer back under his belt, or remain on guard. When he heard Arya sheath her sword, however, he did the same, and returned the handle of his hammer under his belt.

Ŝtanin smiled, the corners of his mouth angling upwards much like a human would do when they smile, and this was much to everyone's surprise. "Good, now we have taken the first step in tying the bonds of our trust with one another. Now, I will tell you that from this day forward, four of you shall walk the path that destiny has set before your feet."

The ancient Drëkøn turned and walked towards the crystal encasements that held the bodies of other Drëkøn, which Jeod and Hölgeron had been peering into not long ago. He beckoned for them to follow him as he flicked his long tail behind him, which was lined with small spines from the base of his tail and ended just a few inches from the tip of his tail.

"However," Ŝtanin said as he led them on, the last three feet of his white greatsword hanging at a downward angle on his left side and bouncing back and forth with each step, "in order for you to begin walking your separate paths, you must first learn of who I am, who my people were, and of what significance we were and are to your world to this day."

"So, does that mean you are going to tell us the history of you and your people?" Jeod asked with anticipation.

Ŝtanin turned his head to look at Jeod over his left shoulder, "Not exactly. Only four of you will be granted knowledge of the Drëkøn. The knowledge you are granted will aid you on your journeys'." His brilliant sky blue eye flicked over to Angela, "And I assure you, Angela. All of your questions will be answered in due time. I only ask that you bear with me." He stopped before the set of crystal encasements Jeod and Hölgeron had been inspecting earlier.

"How did you-?" Angela began to ask in surprise as she stopped dead in her tracks, but could not finish her question. Roran looked over his shoulder and saw a look of total surprise on her face, which for some reason did not seem to fit the herbalist at all. Then her expression grew more serious, "You managed to slip by my mental wards, something not even Elva could manage. How did you do that so easily?"

The old Drëkøn spoke, but did not turn to face her, "The magic of the Ancient language is unique in and of itself. But, it cannot compare to the magic that the Tøvrí, the Caretakers used, nor can it compare its uniqueness to that of the magic of the Drëkøn." Then he turned and faced them.

Arya had been studying his muzzle very carefully for any signs that would indicate what kind of personality the Drëkøn had. However, she could not glean anything from his stolid expression. But she did see one thing she was very familiar with, however; the spirit of a dragon. Other than that, he hid his emotions very well, perhaps much better than any elf was capable of.

Ŝtanin indicated with his right hand to the crystal encasement directly behind him, which was at eye level with everyone except Elva, despite how much she had grown. "This…is Vrínjäø. The oldest of the Tøvrí." Ŝtanin looked over his shoulder down into the crystal encasement for a moment, "She was the only one of us who had the ability to store the entire history and all knowledge of the Drëkøn within her mind." He returned his gaze back up to the six standing before him, "She will teach you individually the knowledge you need to embark on your separate journeys."

For a moment, no one spoke. No one was sure how they would learn anything from a long dead being.

Angela finally broke the silence with a slight laugh as she scoffed, "Well, it's good to know that she has all of the knowledge of your people locked away in her head…but I don't know if you know that since she is…dead, then she cannot speak."

Ŝtanin looked at her with his blank expression, but did not say anything. Instead, he hummed deeply, much like a dragon, and stepped off to the side of the crystal encasement containing the intact body of Vrínjäø.

Four different runes appeared on the wall around the crystal encasement. Two appeared in the space between Vrínjäø's encasement, and the one above it, while another two appeared in the space below her encasement and the one below it. Each glowing rune was different from the other, but they all had the distinct flowing characteristic unique to the written language of the Drëkøn.

"Each one of these runes represents your individual names in my language," Ŝtanin stated. He pointed to the two runes above Vrínjäø's encasement, "Arya and Roran, yours are on the top; yours being on the left, Roran and yours on the right, Arya." Ŝtanin indicated to the other two runes below the encasement, "Hölgeron, yours is on the right, while the left one is yours, Angela."

"What does this have anything to do with us learning from Vrínjäø?" Hölgeron asked in a polite tone, giving a miniscule smile at the ancient being.

Ŝtanin detected the anticipation and fear in the elderly elf's voice, "Your ability to conceal your emotions is rather impressive Hölgeron, considering that you are not entirely of elvish decent. Your mother taught you how to hide your human emotions very well. She and your father would be proud of who you have become."

Hölgeron's eyes widened in shock upon hearing the old Drëkøn's words. Arya cast a puzzled glance over her shoulder at the elderly elf, for she had never known that his mother had been an elf and his father a human. The fact that Ŝtanin had been able to easily invade a skilled elf's mind even with wards made Arya…uncomfortable.

"But there is nothing to fear," Ŝtanin continued, "all you must do is place your hand on the rune representing your name and Vrínjäø's knowledge will be transferred to your mind."

"You mean her knowledge will be forced into our heads?" Angela asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

Ŝtanin nodded, "If that is how you wish to put it, yes."

"Then I'm not going to put my hand on that thing," said the herbalist as she eyed the glowing rune that represented her name. She looked directly into the eyes of the Drëkøn as she spoke, "You should know by now why that is, since you seem to be able to get passed any mental ward we can put up."

Ŝtanin closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, "I had hoped you would not decline to have the necessary knowledge be transferred to your mind." He opened his eyes again, "But, since you have declined…I cannot force you to change your decision. But, know that you will have to find the path destiny has set before you…by yourself."

"Can't you just tell me what my destiny is? Or where I'm supposed to go?" the herbalist asked as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her left ear.

The old Drëkøn shook his head slowly, "That, I cannot do. Not even I know of what your destinies are. Only Vrínjäø has the obscure details of your destined paths." He held up a clawed finger as his voice grew stern, "But I will warn you. Vrínjäø was no prophet and she could not see the future nor could she have predicted your names. She only knows of your destinies thanks to an ancient prophecy that was made by the dragons themselves. I do not know where the prophecy will take the four of you…but I now know that you are the destined Four the prophecy speaks of."

"A prophecy…by the dragons?" Jeod asked, his interest growing.

Ŝtanin glanced down at the dead Drëkøn within the crystal encasement as he spoke, "_'And then, the Four shall reunite at the Place of Origin to challenge the Beast. There, the Wielder shall fight It, aided by two other warriors; one of times long since gone by, the other of times long yet to happen.'_"

Fírnen's mind touched Arya's and she opened her mind for him. He sounded troubled as his voice spoke within her mind, _I don't know how, but I know of the prophecy he speaks of. Ask him how it is I have knowledge I have never stumbled upon!_

Before Arya could even open her mouth to ask Fírnen's question, Ŝtanin was already answering, "Fírnen has this knowledge…because it has been embedded within the blood of his ancestors, with my help."

"You're the one that gave him the knowledge then?" Arya asked.

"No," Ŝtanin answered, "I only cast the spell upon his ancestor that would release the knowledge I embedded in her blood the moment one of her descendants ventured near this tomb. I do believe you know her name as well, Fírnen. She was your great grandmother's great grandmother."

_Bedäi'tal,_ said Fírnen, intending only for Arya to hear, but Ŝtanin had obviously also been listening.

"Yes, Bedäi'tal. She was the only wild dragon whom I could entrust the knowledge of my people." Ŝtanin looked up from the crystal encasement and set his eyes upon Arya, "And thanks to my spell, the knowledge that lay dormant in your blood was able to resurface when you came close to the tomb. That is why you are all here today."

"Then you planned all this from the very beginning, didn't you?" Roran asked, finally breaking his silence, "You intended for all of us to be here."

"No, I never knew who it would be to finally unearth this tomb," Ŝtanin replied, "but yes. I had planned this to happen, all because of the prophecy."

"Which means…" Jeod began, but paused as he searched for the right words he wanted to say, "which means that they cannot escape their own fates now."

"Do keep in mind, that I am not the one who chose you," Ŝtanin replied. "It was fate itself that brought you here to realize your true purposes in this world."

Roran glanced at Arya, "And I thought I would just live out the remainder of my days in the Valley, with no more excitement to happen."

Arya nodded in agreement, "Instead, fate has decided we are to fight alongside one another again."

"Then you will allow for the necessary knowledge to be transferred to your minds?" Ŝtanin asked as Roran looked back at the Drëkøn within the crystal. Both Arya and Roran nodded at the same time. "Good, then you may place your hands on the runes representing you names," said Ŝtanin as he indicated for them to step closer to Vrínjäø's encasement.

Roran took a deep breath as he stepped closer. He was very nervous, but at the same time he felt as if he had finally discovered what he was meant to do in the world, what he had been born to do. Arya stepped next to him, and gave him a reassuring nod.

"Together?" she asked.

Roran nodded once in response, "Together." Looking up at the rune representing his name, Roran repeatedly clenched and unclenched his right hand and his heart began to race.

"Remember Roran," Ŝtanin said in a reassuring tone, "it is your choice to go on this journey. I am not forcing you to do this."

Roran quickly glanced at the six foot tall Drëkøn standing next to him before he looked back up at the rune. Without another thought, he reached his right hand up to the rune but hesitated before he placed it on the surface of the stone. However, he disregarded what had just been troubling him and placed the palm of his hand on the rune. Arya placed her right hand on the rune of her name at the same moment as Roran.

ͼͽ

As Eragon gently set the large horse-sized boulder on the molded rock and released the spell he had used to move it, he glanced over his left shoulder. He thought he had felt something odd only a few seconds ago, but what it was he couldn't be certain of. He thought it felt as if a needle had gently poked the back of his head with the sharp end. He had never felt such a sensation before; it was odd, but he disregarded it as nothing.

But in having glanced over his shoulder, Eragon saw what he thought was a humorous, yet beautiful sight. Saphira stood a hundred or so meters away from where he stood helping the elves build the foundation wall for the hatchery. Her head was turned back towards her left wing and she slowly moved her wings up and down, as if she were trying to remember how to fly. He was about to reach out his mind and ask her if she had forgotten how to fly when he noticed what she was looking down at.

Kaeshta sat on the ground a few meters away from Saphira, watching her intently and mimicking her wing movements; Saphira was teaching the little dragon how to fly.

Eragon smiled as he turned and sat down on the flat face of a nearby rock. Watching Saphira teach Kaeshta how to fly, he thought it was the most heartwarming of sights he had seen in a very long time.

The elderly female elf Irethil joined Eragon, standing off to his right as she quickly gulped down a few mouthfuls of water from her water skin. "A beautiful sight isn't it?" she asked as she let the water skin hang at her belt. "In all these years of my life, I never imagined I would ever again see the day when an adult dragon teaches a young dragon how to fly."

Eragon smiled as he nodded, a warm feeling forming in his gut as he watched Saphira arch her thin wing fingers downwards as she brought them down. Kaeshta did the same, "It certainly is. It's amazing how eager Kaeshta is to learn everything that Saphira knows." He laughed softly when Kaeshta jumped up and down while she flapped her small wings, "But she does learn very quickly."

"That she does," Irethil replied as she watched the little dragon prance about with each flap of her wings. "Come to think of it, this is perhaps the first time in over a century that anyone has seen a sight like this. It's hard to believe that Saphira learned everything by herself, and you as well, before Brom began teaching you both how to be Rider and dragon."

"It's hard to believe that this all started seven years ago," Eragon said as his mind wandered back to the day he discovered Saphira's egg. "Time flies by quickly when your life is occupied with many things."

"Believe me, Eragon," Irethil said as she glanced down at him, "time flows by much quicker when you are an elf. And when you are an elf, much of your life is spent being occupied by many things that ordinary humans cannot bear to even occupy themselves with."

Eragon looked up at the elderly elf, "Such as?"

Irethil turned her attention back towards Saphira and Kaeshta while still speaking directly to him, "Much of it is spent doing what you did when Oromis and Glaedr took you under their wings…meditating and training one's mind."

Eragon laughed silently for a moment before replying, "But you forget, I'm no ordinary human."

Irethil gave him a look, "I have not forgotten that you are a Dragon Rider, Eragon. I was merely implying that ordinary humans cannot tolerate our long practices of meditation and mental training."

"I see," Eragon said as he reached up and scratched the back of his head, where he felt the odd sensation of a needle poking his scalp again. He furrowed his eyebrows, genuinely puzzled by the sensation.

Irethil noticed his discomfort, "Is everything alright Eragon?"

"Huh?" Eragon said looking up at Irethil again before he realized what she was asking him, "Oh, no. It's nothing…I just…"

"Something is troubling you," Irethil said as she turned towards him while tossing her long black hair over her left shoulder, "I can see it. Something is disturbing you."

Eragon absentmindedly reached back and scratched the back of his head again, "I don't know what it is. Some sort of…odd sensation on the back of my head, like a needle pricking my scalp." He heard footsteps approaching from behind him; he turned to see Blödhgarm.

"I thought I was the only one experiencing the same sensation," Blödhgarm said as he stopped beside Eragon. "It was a very precise sensation, twice in the same spot at the base of my skull." He noticed Saphira and Kaeshta, and his eyes seemed to soften as he watched Kaeshta still hopping about.

"Yes, that is exactly what I felt," Eragon stated as he nodded. "What could it mean?" He looked up at Blödhgarm, who shrugged in response. Irethil also shrugged as well when he turned towards her. He sighed, "I guess we won't find out what it means anytime soon."

He turned his attention back towards Saphira and Kaeshta, as did Blödhgarm and Irethil. Kaeshta hopped up into the air with persistence, which seemed to pay off as she finally managed to flap her wings twice in the air before she landed back on the ground. Saphira hummed in approval.

However, the whole while Eragon felt the sudden urge to return to Alagaësia. Something had obviously happened back in his homeland. What had happened, he was not certain. He thought to himself, _I hope this strange feeling does not mean anything ill has fallen upon Roran and Arya._

ͼͽ

The wind howled through the alpine pines as a snowstorm blew with unrelenting force. Visibility was limited to only a few feet as large snowflakes whipped through the air. Large snowdrifts built up on the face of the pines facing towards the wind.

A lone figure trudged through the waist deep snow. The cold wind blew a flap of the figure's fur skin coat wide open, causing the figure to stop and pull the flap closer to their body before continuing through the storm.

The figure trudged through the snow for another ten minutes before the snowstorm began to gradually die down and the deep snow became shallower. Eventually, the figure emerged above the cloud line of the alpine storm. The snow there was only ankle deep, making for easier travel up the slope of the mountain they ascended. Above the clouds, there was a perfect view of many more mountain tops penetrating the top of the cloud layer, some rising higher than the mountain the figure ascended.

A few more minutes of walking and the figure reached a flight of stone stairs. As the figure began to ascend the first few steps, they stopped with their foot on the fifth step and turned to look out across the sea of fluffy white cloud tops.

It was Murtagh.

He reached up and placed his gloved right hand on the back of his head, which was covered by the fur-lined hood of his fur skin winter coat. His eyes scanned the cottony tops of the clouds and rough mountain tops as he seemed to search for something. What he was searching for, he did not know himself.

He disregarded the odd sensation he had just felt, turned and resumed ascending the stone stairs.

As he reached the top of the stairs he stopped again, and again placed his hand on the back of his head. He pulled his hood off and scratched his head where he had felt the odd sensation of being pricked by a needle. The first time he felt it, it was like a precise poke with a needle, just below the base of his skull. Again he felt the same odd sensation.

Then came the strange feeling that something or someone was calling out to him, trying to contact him. At first, he thought it was Thorn trying to make sure that he was safe, but he discarded that as he knew Thorn's mind would not cause such an odd sensation. It felt as if he were being summoned by a silent voice, telling him to do something.

_Something is happening,_ Murtagh thought to himself, but kept his mind open to Thorn. _Someone is beckoning me to return to Alagaësia._

Murtagh sensed Thorn stirring from a comfortable and long nap, _What do you mean 'someone is beckoning you'?_

Murtagh scanned the top of the cloud layer one more time very quickly before he turned and walked across the length of the snow covered courtyard. He opened one of the large doors and entered his home, which he had finished constructing only a month earlier.

As he turned to close the door, he paused and looked outside once more as he spoke to Thorn, _I can't put my finger on it...but something is pulling me back to Alagaësia. I have the feeling that I have to do something there._ And with that he pushed the door closed.

ͼͽ

The sun finally poked its bright face from behind the large cloud that had lumbered by an hour earlier.

Orik reveled in the suns warming rays, "It's about time that blasted cloud rolled through! First it's a storm as soon as we leave the mountains, then a cold fog for two days, and then that cloud. It's nice to finally have the sun shining and to be warm for a change."

Flarolth tried as best as he could to conceal his smirk. For the past four days, Orik's mood had been sour because of the weather, but he had not complained about it until now. But Flarolth certainly agreed with Orik; it was nice to have the sun smiling down upon them with warmth. He no longer needed Athgar to curl around his neck like a scarf to keep him warm. No sooner had the sun come out, Athgar had uncurled his tail around Flarolth's neck, and jumped down onto the saddle between Flarolth's legs. There, he tucked his front paws beneath his belly, and looked off into the distance to Flarolth's left.

"Keep this in mind Flarolth," Orik called over his shoulder from where he sat upon his small steed, "when building your home, make sure you make a great big hearth. Who knows what kind of weather occurs where you're going."

"I will keep that in mind," Flarolth responded. He fell silent for a moment as he thought of something, something he had been meaning to ask the dwarf king. He urged his own steed to quicken its pace to ride alongside Orik's steed, "King Orik, what can you tell me about Eragon and his dragon? Saphira, was her name?"

Orik nodded as he tugged on his beard, "Aye, Eragon and Saphira. They are the finest dragon and Rider Alagaësia has had in ages." He turned his head to look at Flarolth with a smile, "Eragon is a very strong willed lad. He has a strong heart as well, a heart worthy of being recognized as having been made by the hands of Helzvog. Saphira as well, and their bond with one another is perhaps the most prominent thing about them.

"They are unbreakable. Even if the future may look bleak, they never lose faith in their belief that they will succeed at whatever it is they set out to accomplish," Orik said with an air of happiness. "I'm glad to call Eragon mine adopted brother. He is truly a great friend…and brother."

Flarolth looked off into the distance ahead of him as he took in what Orik had said. He was surprised by how much the dwarf king praised Eragon and Saphira, for he had never known Orik to be one to praise anyone else so highly. Flarolth began to think that if Orik praised them so much, then they certainly deserved Flarolth's respect.

Flarolth began to ask another question when he suddenly felt a quick and sharp poke on the back of his head, just below the base of his skull. His right hand shot back to squash whatever he thought had bitten him, but there was nothing there. He turned his head upwards to see if any flies were buzzing around his head, but there were none to swat his hand at.

The odd sensation confused him, but he ignored it. Again, he opened his mouth to ask his question, but stopped when he felt the same odd sensation in the same spot once more. It was as if an invisible needle had pricked him. Flarolth turned in his saddle to look behind him, but the older male dwarf following behind him on their steed was removing the heavy coat he had been wearing.

_It couldn't have been him,_ Flarolth thought to himself. As he turned back around in his saddle to face forward, Athgar gazed up at him and made a soft noise to draw his attention. But Flarolth did not hear the little dragon as he scratched at the spot he had felt the strange sensation. _What is this feeling?_ He looked off to his left, in the direction he knew the Hadarac Desert to be. _Why do I suddenly feel the need to venture into the desert? There's nothing there, yet…something is telling me to go there._

Flarolth shook his head, and ignored the strange urge to turn his steed around and gallop off towards the desert. _No,_ he said to himself, _I need to keep going. No strange feeling is going to stop me from pursuing my dream!_

ͼͽ

A large caravan of Urgal's and Kull trudged through the thicket of the forest lining the edge of Lake Fläm. They carried with them their belongings; everything that could be salvaged from their settlement after the flooding. The water level of the lake had risen much higher than it had in almost a century, high enough for the water to spill over the natural dam that normally kept the lake from spilling into the hilly terrain below it.

As the Urgal's searched for a new location for their settlement, something large dove into the lake, causing the water to splash nearly a hundred feet into the air. As water droplets cascaded back down into the lake, the large head of a dragon emerged from the white water, along with its long neck. Urgal's and Kull turned their heads upon hearing the commotion the dragon had caused, as well as the joyous laughter that could be heard as well. Some of the Urgal's growled with disapproval as they continued marching forward.

Nar Garzhvog uttered something to the Urgal's he was leading, and they continued forward while he himself stopped and made his way down to the water's edge. A large Kull with one missing horn and pale skin that appeared to be covered in soot followed after him.

Upon reaching the water's edge, Nar Garzhvog did nothing but glare over at the Kull that had followed him as he came to stand by his leaders side. The Kull grunted in response to Garzhvog's glare and cupped his hands around his large mouth as he bellowed in the Urgal tongue in the direction of the dragon, "Criiztak!"

The pale blue dragon turned its head towards the shore of the lake, searching for whoever had shouted at him and saw the Kull waving its arms, beckoning it to come forward. The dragon blinked its lilac colored eyes once, but remained silent as it began paddling towards Garzhvog and the Kull. Drops of water clung to his pale blue scales, which still shined with a beautiful luster even in the dull light of the gloomy day. He shook his head forcefully as he shut his eyes tightly and let out a powerful sneeze, causing a spout of water vapor and smoke to erupt from his nostrils.

Then, a young female Urgal peered from behind the dragon's neck towards Garzhvog and the Kull. She wiped away the water that dripped down into her gray eyes, tossed back her long black and surprisingly straight hair over her shoulders. Much like the younger males of the Urgal's, the buds of horns poked out of her hair.

Aside from looking much like a human child, this young female Urgal was a stunning sight. Her cheek bones were set high and her nose was very elegant with a slight bulge on the bridge of her nose, which had a soft arch to it. Rather than having a square jaw like nearly all Urgal's and Ugralga, this young female had a rounded jaw and pointed chin. In essence, the young female Urgal appeared more human than the rest of her brethren.

The hide tunic she wore was soaked, causing it to cling to her frame. Surprisingly enough the young female Urgal had a slight stocky frame, her muscles clearly defined as they bulged ever so slightly beneath her pale skin. At her waist, the black pummel of a dagger stuck out from the water. A beautiful black gem, cut so that its surface was covered with many flat facets, sat in a golden crown at the very end of the pummel of the dagger.

When the pale blue dragon finally reached the edge of the shore, it stayed in the shallows, just out of swinging reach of Garzhvog and his Kull friend.

The Kull spoke first to the young female in their native language, "Raiga, what do you think you are doing?"

Raiga sneered up at the Kull and replied in the Urgal tongue, "Having fun father. Can I not enjoy a flight with Criiztak once in a while?" She did not bother dismounting from the crude saddle she sat in on the back of the dragon; her legs still in the water up to her thighs.

Raiga's father, the Kull, replied angrily, "Do you not understand? We have lost our village, not to mention the village elders to the flood! This is no time for games! And you!" Raiga's father pointed a very thick and gnarled finger at the pale blue dragon named Criiztak, "How many times must we tell you not to prey upon the herds of animals at the edges of the human villages? Because of you, the humans believe _we_ are responsible for the disappearance of their livestock!"

Criiztak only hissed in response.

Nar Garzhvog sighed deeply and spoke to the angry Kull, "Gadojeg, why are you the one who is angry when it is _I_ who first told you that we must send them off to Eragon and Firetongue? We would not have to deal with his preying upon the livestock of the humans on the other side of the lake then." He folded his arms in front of his chest.

Raiga's father growled deeply, "And how many times have I told you that they will _not_ go to wherever it is they would go to if we had sent them off? I am not going to put Raiga's life in danger! And I will most certainly not allow the first dragon to hatch for an Urgralgra to simply fly off with my daughter into the unknown!"

Nar Garzhvog turned towards Raiga's father, baring his teeth, "And why is that? She has proven on _numerous_ occasions that she is perfectly capable of fending for herself! That is why she was able to survive not just the flood, but the two days alone in the hills after she was swept away!"

Nar Garzhvog and Gadojeg began to argue very loudly with one another. Their voices and growls echoed out across the glass-like surface of the lake. What they were arguing about, however, meant nothing to Raiga. All she wanted was to leave her people, embark on an adventure with Criiztak and see the whole of the world. The only world she had ever known were the mountains and forests that she had been living in her entire life.

But having turned fifteen years of age the day she had been swept away by the floods, Raiga longed to leave her people even more. All she wanted to do was to get away from the constant arguing between her mother, father and Nar Garzhvog. Being the first Urgal Dragon Rider only intensified her urge to fly away from her people.

Since Criiztak had hatched for her a year earlier, Nar Garzhvog had made the point of sending her and Criiztak off to someone named Eragon. But Raiga's father would not hear a word Garzhvog would say for that entire year. It had gotten to the point where her father's stubbornness to keep her by his side infuriated her.

Just as Raiga was about to tell Criiztak to simply fly away from them and never look back, her left hand flew up and slapped the back of her neck. She thought something had bitten her, but when she pulled her hand away and looked at it, there was nothing there. It felt as if a mosquito had bitten her just below the base of her skull.

Raiga pulled her long straight hair over her neck so that nothing could bite her again, should it decide to do so again. But just as she put her hand at her side again, once more it flew up quickly and slapped her neck. However, since her hair had been covering her neck, Raiga knew nothing could have bitten her. With her hand still on the back of her head, Raiga twisted around in Criiztak's saddle and looked out across the calm surface of the lake.

As she scratched at the spot where the strange feeling of being bitten had happened one more time, Raiga's urge to fly away became nearly unbearable. It wasn't that the arguing had finally gotten to her, but because something was drawing her away from there. Something was telling her to head east, to begin a journey to the Hadarac. How she knew the name of where this urge was telling her to go, Raiga had no idea but she knew that she had to go there.

Raiga couldn't take it anymore and that's when she decided she would obey her urge to fly to the east. She turned back around in the saddle, and grabbed the closest of Criiztak's neck spikes. She spoke to him with her mind in her native language, as it was the only language he was familiar with, _We must leave this place. We need to go east. Something is pulling me that way._

Criiztak turned his head slightly to look back at her with his left eye as he shuffled his wings. His soft calming, soft-spoken voice washed over her mind, much like the babbling of a brook in the spring season, _What do you mean pulling you? I do not see anything or anyone tugging on your arms._

Raiga shook her head, _That's not what I meant. It's…a strange feeling that I just got. Now, get ready to leave._ Raiga could sense from Criiztak that he approved of her decision to finally leave the arguing Urgal and Kull. Like her, he also did not enjoy living with the constant arguments.

As Criiztak quickly unfurled his wings, Raiga called to her father, "Father!" The Kull, still fuming from his argument with Nar Garzhvog turned and set his angry glare upon Raiga. Raiga gave him a very stern look as she glared back at him, "I have always respected you for all you have taught me. But I no longer feel at home living among our people. Nor can I take the constant bickering between you two! I bid you farewell!"

Gadojeg's eyes widened with rage as he realized what Raiga was telling him. He bellowed and charged forward into the water, intending to stop Criiztak from taking off. Nar Garzhvog, most likely fearing the angry Kull would harm the dragon in his blind rage, rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the Kull's waist. But still, Gadojeg charged through the water at Criiztak.

But he was too late. By the time he was almost within reaching distance of Criiztak, the pale blue dragon had leaped up out of the water. Beating his wings three times, Criiztak easily cleared the tops of the trees that hugged the edge of the lake. Water showered down upon Nar Garzhvog and Gadojeg as it cascaded from his scales.

As he dipped his right wing down to turn, Gadojeg let out a howl that rolled across the lake. But it wasn't a howl of rage that Raiga heard; it was a howl of despair, for Raiga was Gadojeg's only child. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the large form of her father grow smaller with each graceful flap of Criiztak's wings. She could see that he had ceased charging into the water and only looked on as the only dragon to hatch for an Urgal carried his daughter off into the open world.

Raiga reached her mind out to her father before the distance between them prevented her from contacting him, _I'm sorry father. But I must leave; it is what I was meant to do from the very beginning._ Then, she severed the mental connection and looked out ahead of her. As the wind ripped passed her ears, she thought she heard another bellow of despair, but she did not bother looking back this time.

_From this day forward we are free,_ Raiga said to Criiztak as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the wind against her face. She felt Criiztak's happiness about finally leaving the Urgal's to begin a life of adventure with his Rider, but she also felt his uncertainty about where they were going to go. She quickly reached up to move the strand of wet hair that had plastered to her face and then took a firm hold of Criiztak's neck spike again.

_We may be free now,_ he said, _but where will we go? What is it that pulls you to the east?_ He climbed higher and higher into the air with each flap of his wings.

She was about to answer him when her urge to travel east suddenly seemed to redirect itself. She looked to her left off to the north, where she could see the mountains that made up The Spine disappear off into the humid haze of the horizon. _No, we must go north. Turn north. There's something in the north this time._

_But what is it?_ Criiztak inquired again as he angled his body and dipped his left wing down to begin his graceful turn towards the north.

Her long black hair whipped behind her in the wind like writhing serpents, _I do not know. We will just have to go north to find out. We need to…we need to go to Oestaerya._

ͼͽ

By the time they had emerged from the tunnel, the sun was already beginning to make its journey down towards the horizon.

First, Roran emerged from the cave, then Arya, Elva, Jeod, Hölgeron and Angela. When they had all climbed down the ladder, everyone turned and expected to see Ŝtanin standing in the tunnel entrance, but he was not there. They wait several minutes before they finally heard the scratching of claws against stone.

"What's that noise?" Nasuada asked as she turned her attention up to the tunnel.

"You'll see in a moment," Angela answered as she pulled her handkerchief from her cloak once more and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow. "I didn't think we'd ever get out of that oven."

"Oh come now Angela," Jeod said as he glanced over to the herbalist, "it was not that bad. It was quite pleasant if you ask me."

"Says the man who wears light garments practically all the time," Angela scoffed.

Jeod was about to respond to her accusation when Solembum let out a loud hiss. Nasuada gasped in surprise upon seeing what had emerged from the tunnel and a group of workers nearby pointed and shouted. Some of the men, including Baldor, pulled concealed weapons out of their garments and rushed forward to protect Roran and the others.

But Roran stopped them with a hand, "Do not worry friends. He is with us; he's a friend. There's no need for weapons."

Baldor approached him from behind and whispered nervously into Roran's right ear, "Roran, what in god's name is that? And what do you mean _he_ is a friend?"

Fírnen turned his head and looked upon the Drëkøn as Roran replied to Baldor, "His name is Ŝtanin. He's a Drëkøn and when I say he's a friend, I mean that he's a friend." Roran glanced back at Baldor and he could see that the color in his face had begun to return upon hearing Roran's reassuring words.

Ŝtanin called down to everyone present, speaking in a calm, yet powerful voice, "Do not be afraid. I mean none of you any harm, nor do I intend to harm your families." With that, Ŝtanin hopped off the ledge of the tunnel and dropped down to the gravel below. He landed with a heavy thud, bending his left knee down to the ground and his right up while he placed the knuckles of his left fist on the ground. Everyone felt the ground tremble slightly from the impact of his landing as dust billowed out and up around him.

"That's…a Drëkøn?" Nasuada asked to no one in particular.

Roran could hear the slight tremble in her voice and spoke to her over his shoulder while his eyes still focused on the Drëkøn, "There's no reason to fear him, Nasuada. He's probably the most essential ally we'll ever have."

Solembum growled loudly, arched his back and stood his hair on end as Ŝtanin stood up; Angela hushed him.

Nasuada glanced towards Roran for a moment before looking back at the Drëkøn. "What does you mean 'most essential ally we'll ever have'?" she asked him in a hushed voice. But Roran did not respond; he had not seemed to hear her.

The Drëkøn was truly a remarkable sight. She had never before seen a more amazing sight. The absolutely stunning resemblance the Drëkøn had to a dragon simply left her in awe. His head was shaped similarly to that Fírnen's head, but the Drëkøn had a face that Nasuada thought was very similar to that of Glaedr. But unlike the gold dragon, Ŝtanin had large horns that sprouted from the top of his head, several inches behind his eye sockets and curved ever so softly upwards. Nasuada thought that his horns made him appear just as fierce as Thorn.

Solembum dropped down to the ground as Fírnen stood up and casually walked over to the very dragon-like man that stood before them. He stopped a few meters away from the Drëkøn and lowered his head until their eyes met. No one spoke a word, not even a whisper as the two stared silently at one another.

Ŝtanin lifted his right hand and gingerly placed his four-fingered palm on Fírnen's snout. Fírnen seemed to shudder upon feeling the touch of the Drëkøn. Then, the corners of Ŝtanin's mouth curled up into a warm smile and he and Fírnen closed their eyes. Simultaneously the two dragons hummed deeply, causing the air to vibrate.

"Aye," Ŝtanin said as he slowly opened his eyes, "it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Fírnen." Then he turned his gaze upon all of the humans and the elves present, "It is also good to know that my dragon brethren are beginning to flourish once more. Today is a day that will forever be remembered throughout history once more."

"Why's that?" Angela asked. Solembum hid behind her legs as he stared at the Drëkøn with wide eyes.

"Why you may ask?" Ŝtanin said as he approached the group, his graceful steps carrying him with purpose. "Today, not only shall the name of my people be known throughout the world once again, but it also marks the day when my people were born into this world. On this very day, three hundred thousand years ago, the first of the Drëkøn emerged from its egg among a cluster of dragon eggs. Seràhjön was the first Drëkøn this world laid its eyes upon. It was this day that was dubbed, Dríon Nävúŝiin…or in your language, the Draconian Arrival."

**Ä**

**End Chapter 3**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Pronunciation of Names<span>  
><strong>**Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
><strong>**Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with lock)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<strong>**  
><strong>Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon<strong>  
><strong>Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn<strong>  
><strong>Fírnen: FEER-nin<strong> **  
>Flarolth: fla-roll-th<strong> **  
>Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks<strong> **  
>Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on<br>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>Raiga: RIE-gah(rie rhymes with lie)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>Tøvrí: TEH-vree  
>Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.**


	4. What Lies in the Heavens

**6/10/12 Hey readers! Sorry it's taken me such a long time to update with a new chapter. I had a case of writer's block for the last month of my semester, so it took me a while to finally to get back to writing. Now, this is a short chapter and more of a filler than anything else. But here's the thing about this chapter. This chapter introduces Eragon to a new concept about the world, the stars, the sun and the heavens. This is where the scifi elements I said I would have in the story are starting to come into play. From here on out, the scifi elements will progressively become more and more noticeable.**  
><strong>Also, I have two announcements to make. First, I will no longer be working on my Stargate Universe fan fiction anymore. Don't get me wrong, I loved working on my SGU fan fic, but since I uploaded that little poll in place of chapter 8, I've lost the spark to keep on working on it. It was a very tough and difficult decision for me to discontinue work on it, probably the hardest decision I've ever made since I decided upon what I wanted to major in at the beginning of my college career. Again, I'm sorry to have to make this announcement about my SGU fan fic, and I hope you guys can understand why I made the decision to stop working on it. But hold your horses, because I never said that I'm COMPLETELY done with it. No, I hope to one day return to working on it sometime in the future.<strong>  
><strong>Now for the second announcement. Remember when I said that since I'm a big scifi nerd and that this story will have slight scifi elements in it? Well, that's changed since I've discovered the awesomeness of Mass Effect(still hate ME3's ending though, love the rest of the game and ME2). The original main plot idea of my story is still the same, albeit altered somewhat to fit what I'd like to see. Now there will be big time scifi elements later on in the story. And I hope that none of you will hate me for this, but I plan to make this story a bit of a crossover with Mass Effect. Not entirely, but just one element from Mass Effect will appear later on in the story. If you want to know what that plan of mine is, please inquire about it to me via PM. I don't want there to be a massive spoiler.<strong>  
><strong>Anyways, that's all for now! I hope you enjoy the read guys!<br>10/12/12 So...after a long hard debate with myself, I decided I'm not going to go through with this Mass Effect addition to the story I said I would be including. I just felt that it would turn off a lot of my IC readers, so I came to the conclusion that I would not be putting in some Mass Effect elements to this story. Those of you interested in what I had originally planned to include, you can PM me and I can give you a detailing of what I had had in mind for the story in terms of Mass Effect. But as it stands now, this story will be a purely original writing with no crossover elements whatsoever.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>421/2012

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

What Lies in the Heavens

_Perhaps something has occurred back in Alagaësia, something that perhaps you are connected to._

They were in Eragon's study, gathered in front of the blazing fire within the large stone hearth just off to the side of Eragon's desk. Blödhgarm sat in one of the leather lounge chairs in front of the fireplace, gazing into the dancing flames. He had his right leg propped up on his left knee and Kaeshta rested peacefully in his lap. Saphira lay on the magically heated stone floor across from where Blödhgarm sat in his chair. Her neck was curved around so that her snout rested directly in front of Eragon's feet.

Meanwhile, Eragon stared off into the writhing flames within the hearth while he leaned against Saphira's side. Ever since Eragon had experienced the odd sensations on the back of his head a day ago, his thoughts had been wandering a lot. His thoughts always fell upon Arya and her wellbeing. He had tried to contact her earlier that morning via the mirror, but he had been told by Vanir, the ambassador between the elves and humans, that Arya had departed Ellesméra after something happened in Palancar Valley.

Again, Eragon attempted to contact Roran, but no one had appeared in the mirror. The same was true for Orik, Nar Garzhvog and Nasuada. However, Eragon had been able to contact King Orrin, who Eragon thought had aged quite a bit since they had last seen each other.

"No, I haven't heard from Queen Arya or the elves since you left," Orrin had said after Eragon had asked about Arya's whereabouts. "And what do you mean something has happened in Palancar Valley?" Orrin asked.

"I'm not sure myself," Eragon had answered, "All Vanir told me was that something had happened in Palancar Valley. I'm as much in the dark as you."

There was silence among the four of them; the crackling and sizzling of the fire the only sound in the room at that moment.

"But what could have happened that both of us felt the same sensation at the exact same moment?" Blödhgarm asked as he turned his gaze away from the fire and onto Saphira, breaking the silence. "For us to have felt something this far away from Alagaësia, the incident would have had to have been of immense proportions."

"But none of the other elves felt it," Eragon said as his thoughts wandered back to the present conversation. "And neither did Kaeshta or Saphira."

_Do you think magic could have been involved in whatever happened?_

Eragon shook his head, "If there was magic involved, it's none like I've ever felt before. And why would it only affect Blödhgarm and I alone? Why only the Riders and not their dragons?"

"Perhaps it was a spell specifically made to target just Riders," Blödhgarm speculated as he began to stroke Kaeshta on the top of her head.

_But what was the purpose of the spell? Do you both feel anything different?_

Eragon and Blödhgarm's eyes met and exchanged silent words with one another. Blödhgarm shook his head and Eragon shrugged. "The only thing that's different now is the sudden urge to return to Alagaësia," Blödhgarm answered.

Eragon nodded his head in agreement, "I can't exactly explain it but something is drawing me in the direction of the Hadarac Desert."

_The Hadarac Desert…_

Kaeshta lifted her head up and gazed towards Saphira, while Saphira turned an eye towards the little dragon. Blödhgarm sensed that Saphira and Kaeshta were conversing with one another, "You seem to be speculating on something. Has something jogged your memory?"

Saphira closed her eye for a moment and was silent. Upon opening her eye, she spoke, _No, nothing has jogged my memory. But Kaeshta seems to…remember something._

"Remember?" Blödhgarm asked lifting an eyebrow and Kaeshta snorted.

_I do not know where she may have gotten this knowledge…but she remembers some sort of prophecy made by our prehistoric ancestors._

This peaked Eragon's interest, "A prophecy? Made by prehistoric dragons?"

_'And then, the Four shall reunite at the Place of Origin to challenge the Beast. There, the Wielder shall fight It, aided by two other warriors; one of times long since gone by, the other of times long yet to happen.'_

A chill suddenly ran down Eragon's spine upon hearing the last words of the prophecy. The phrase, 'the other of times long yet to happen' seemed to jump out at him. But who it was referring to, Eragon did not know. All he knew was that the phrase had some kind of meaning to it and for some reason it seemed to stir an unpleasant feeling within him. It made him uneasy, but at the same time it struck something within him that gave him a sense of newfound purpose. What for this sense of purpose was, Eragon had no idea. Perhaps its meaning would come to him in due time.

"How could Kaeshta know this?" Blödhgarm asked and Eragon could tell the furred elf was genuinely confused. "Who are the 'Four' and where is the 'Place of Origin'?"

Saphira's upper lip curled up into a snarl, _How am I to know? I've never heard of this prophecy before myself until Kaeshta recited it to me!_

Blödhgarm blinked, surprised by Saphira's reaction to his questions, "Have I unknowingly offended you?" Kaeshta had also been surprised by Saphira's angry response and huddled closer to Blödhgarm's belly as she looked at Saphira with slight fear in her eyes.

"Are you alright, Saphira?" Eragon asked as he bent his knees and stood on the balls of his feet until his face was level with Saphira's large left eye. He gazed with worry into the blue abyss of her eye.

_No…forgive me. I just have not been feeling much like myself in recent days._ She paused for a moment as she averted her eye away from Eragon. Smoke billowed out from her nostrils as she seemed to ponder something. Then she stood up. _I wish to be left alone for a while,_ she said as she loomed above Eragon before turning to leave the room. She slowly made her way towards the large wooden doors of Eragon's study, nudged them open with her snout and exited the room.

No sooner had her tail disappeared around the corner of the doorway, Eragon turned towards Blödhgarm, "What just happened?"

Blödhgarm shrugged, "I am unsure myself." The furred elf pondered for a moment before adding, "Perhaps…it has something to do with her pregnancy."

"You mean she's having mood swings?"

Blödhgarm nodded, "I believe so. The strange thing is she hasn't shown any signs of this change in mood until now…after we experienced the strange sensation."

"I was just beginning to think that maybe her change in mood and the sensation we felt were connected somehow."

"Perhaps. Or it may just be that she may soon be due to lay her eggs." Blödhgarm glanced down at Kaeshta, who had lifted her head up and rested it down on his chest. The little dragon took a deep breath and sighed loudly.

Eragon turned his eyes back towards the door to his study as he worried about Saphira.

Blödhgarm could see the worry in Eragon's eye's and assured him that he shouldn't worry too much. "I'm sure that it is only a temporary side effect of pregnancy. All females go through this change in emotions near the end of pregnancy."

"Even elves?" Eragon asked as he looked back at the furred elf.

Blödhgarm nodded in response. "Even elves," he said after a minute of silence. "Only in the case of a pregnant elf…magic is involved when the change of emotions happens."

"I imagine that it may sometimes become…dangerous to be around a female elf going through this."

"Aye," Blödhgarm answered, "you don't want to be in an elf's line of fire when her emotions suddenly change without warning…nor do you want to know what may occur when it does happen."

ͼͽ

_The time is soon approaching,_ Saphira said to herself as she gazed up at the stars partially obscured by light cloud cover. A slight drizzle had started by the time she had walked out onto courtyard. She stood alone at the edge of the cobblestone courtyard, which was wide enough for several dragons her size to land comfortably, _Very soon, dragons will once more walk upon this round earth._ Her mind wandered back to her time spent with Fírnen, _I'd only be happier if you were here with me to lay eyes upon the eggs of our children._

She shuffled her wings as she caught Eragon's scent from behind her. She quickly glanced behind her as she heard his footsteps approaching before returning her gaze to the stars. Eragon had a furred scarf wrapped around his neck and leather gloves on his hands. He had not bothered to put his fur coat over his light tunic.

_Little one,_ Saphira said with her eyes still turned up towards the stars, _why did you not throw your warm fur over your shoulders? It is not warm out here, you'll freeze._

Eragon was silent as he approached closer to her and stopped at her right side next to her large forearm. He looked out across the vast openness of the depression that was the crater they called home, _Being cold is the least of my worries right now, Saphira. Are you alright? That was a rather sudden change of mood you had back there._

Saphira took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she sighed. _Forgive me if I frightened you and Blödhgarm._

_You didn't frighten us,_ Eragon said, _you only worried us when you became angry so suddenly._

_Do not worry yourself with me little one. I am a dragon, Eragon. I can tolerate the discomfort I have been feeling recently._

Eragon glanced up at Saphira upon hearing of her discomfort, _How come you didn't tell me? I could have easily cast a spell to-_

Saphira's upper lip curled up into a snarl, _Eragon! I said I can tolerate it! I do not need any spells!_ She angled her head downwards to look out across the flat plains within the crater and her eyes softened,_ This is something every mother must go through._

Eragon placed his left hand on Saphira's right forearm, her scales warm beneath his cold fingers. Saphira swiveled her head to look down at him, _If it's what you want, then I won't do anything just to alleviate my worry of you. But I just wish you had told me sooner about your discomfort._

_It would have only caused you to worry even more. Right now, you mustn't worry yourself about me as you already have much to worry about with completing the nursery and conference hall._ Saphira lowered her head down until her eyes were level with his and Eragon lifted his left hand off her forearm and scratched the scales above her right brow.

_I still wish you had told me about it sooner._

The drizzle stopped and the clouds parted, allowing the light from the moon to cast its glow down upon the landscape. Eragon turned his eyes up to the stars, as did Saphira. Many of the stars were dim, winking in and out of the darkness of the night sky, while others were about as bright as the moon itself.

_Blödhgarm said that falling stars are in fact stones from beyond this earth,_ Saphira said. Eragon glanced at her and saw that something within her was working, her imagination perhaps. He could clearly see the stars reflected in the pool that was her right eye, like a mirror. _I inquired to him about it yesterday. It is amazing how much the elves have observed about the heavens in only a thousand years._

_What did he tell you?_

_From their observations, the elves were able to calculate that the moon goes around the earth in what Blödhgarm called an 'orbit.' And much like the moon, our own world orbits the sun._

Eragon looked back up at the stars, _The earth orbits the sun? But then what does the sun orbit around?_

Saphira snorted, which sounded more like a subdued laugh to Eragon, _I thought you might ask something like that. The sun does not orbit anything. It is stationary within the heavens._

_Stationary?_ This confused Eragon, as he knew the sun traveled through the sky during the day before setting behind the horizon. _But then how does the sun move through the sky?_

_The earth is turning Eragon,_ Saphira answered as she glanced at him for a moment with her right eye. _As our world orbits around the sun, it is turning, which is why the sun seems to travel through the sky over the course of the day. While we have our nights, the other side of this world is having its day._

_Interesting,_ said Eragon as he digested this new concept about the sun, the earth and the heavens. _The elves are much more observant than I already know them to be. What else did Blödhgarm tell you about the heavens?_

_Do you see that faint red star just above the brightest star in the sky?_ Saphira waited until Eragon had located the star she had mentioned, _That in fact is not a star like you may know it to be. It is in fact another world orbiting the sun._

This information shocked Eragon, _Another world?_

Saphira nodded her head, _And the bright star beneath it is another sun just like ours, only many times larger. In fact, Blödhgarm said that the elves a thousand years ago discovered not just the red world, but seven other worlds orbiting the sun as well. In total, there are nine worlds orbiting the sun, our world included. And many of the other stars in the heavens are in fact suns just like ours._

Eragon turned to look at Saphira, _How can the elves be certain of the existence of these worlds?_

_They can be certain because they have a thousand years worth of observations to confirm these claims of theirs. Imagine Eragon! Other worlds! Who knows just how many worlds there are out there orbiting other suns._ Eragon turned his gaze back up to the stars, his mind beginning to wonder what those other worlds would look like and if he could walk upon them. _Blödhgarm also did say that there may be many other worlds just like ours._

Eragon shook his head, amazed by just how much the elves knew about the heavens. Now he had newfound respect for the observant nature of the elves. _You're right, it is amazing just how much they know about the heavens. It's got me thinking if there may be life on other worlds up there, out in the dark reaches of the heavens. Now I wonder why the elves are so interested in what lies in the heavens._

_I'd like to think that we are no alone in this vast dark ocean of stars, that our world is just one of hundreds of thousands. But,_ _that perhaps will remain an unanswered question for another day,_ Saphira said as she nudged Eragon with her snout towards the doors of the mansion. _You must go inside before you freeze little one. I will not lose my Rider to something as trivial as the cold._

Eragon smirked as he reluctantly obeyed her, _Very well._

Just he and Saphira turned to walk back to the doors, the sky suddenly lit up. It was almost as if it were day once again, only the stars were still visible in the sky. A very large blue star that had not been there before appeared near the red world. The star was so large that it completely covered the light from the red world.

Eragon and Saphira looked back up to the stars once again to gaze up at the star. The star shined with the brilliance of the sun, but its light was a very bright light blue color.

Eragon squinted and put his right hand over his eyes, _What in blazes is that? I don't suppose Blödhgarm didn't mention anything about giant stars suddenly appearing in the heavens out of nowhere, did he?_

_I never thought I'd live long enough to see this day._

_What do you mean? What's happening?_ Eragon asked as he glanced sideways at her.

Saphira was silent as she gazed up at the brilliant star, its light sparkling in her eyes. Then she blinked and answered, _The death of a distant, ancient star. And from its death…a new star will be born._

Eragon looked back at the large star, _The death of a star…what a sight it is._

_A sight to forever cherish,_ said Saphira,_ as few have ever been able to say they witnessed the magnificent death of a star._

_Aye, few even know this event is the death of a star and the birth of a new one…except the elves._

They watched the spectacle for ten minutes before the light slowly faded. However, the large star did not completely disappear as it faded. In its place, a new small but bright blue star twinkled, just to the left of the red world.

Eragon lowered his hand and smiled, _In its place, a new star is born huh? It's just as bright as your scales._ He put his left hand on Saphira's side again, _I think I'll name it after you. Brightscales._

Saphira looked away from the new star and rested her soft gaze on Eragon. Then she hummed, indicating her approval.

**Ä**

**End Chapter 4**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Pronunciation of Names<span>  
>Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with lock)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<strong>**  
><strong>Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon<strong>  
><strong>Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn<strong>  
><strong>Fírnen: FEER-nin<strong>  
><strong>Flarolth: fla-roll-th<strong>  
><strong>Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks<strong>  
><strong>Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on<br>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>Raiga: RIE-gah(rie rhymes with lie)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>Tøvrí: TEH-vree  
>Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.**


	5. The Rider Forgotten by Time

**7/20/12 Hey readers! Sorry for mayking you guys wait so long for this chapter. I've just been a bit busy with vacations and summer classes. But I've finally finished chapter 5! Woohoo! Anyways, in this chapter you'll be learning more about who this Ŝtanin character really is. You'll also finally get the scene I'm sure a lot of you have been waiting for! Yes, five and a half years, and Saphira is finally ready! Also in this chapter, the journey of The Four is about to begin! And we'll finally learn what the reason is that caused Ŝtanin to awaken from his sixty-five hundred year slumber.  
>One more thing that I need to mention. Earlier last week I went through and revised all the previous chapters that I've uploaded. So I've updated chapters 1-4 with the revised versions. So, if there is something that looks a bit off in this chapter from what you already know, make sure you go back and REREAD chapters 1 - 4, because I have added in some new content as well. So reread if you want to stay up-to-date with the events of this story! One last thing before I let you guys read on, I've been having so many ideas for future chapters flying through my head, that I just had to write them down. So, pretty much I have some future chapters already written out, I just need to figure out when the best time is to begin building up to those chapters before I go back and revise them and then upload them. Anyways, I won't keep you guys any longer, so go on and enjoy the read! And remember to PLEASE LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK! I'd really appreciate it if you did, because it really helps me get better content out to you guys! Thanks again and enjoy the read!<strong>

* * *

><p>613/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5<p>

The Rider Forgotten by Time

Arya reached up and scratched the back of her head, where she had felt the pricks of an invisible needle two times below the base of her skull. Ŝtanin had assured her that it was nothing to worry about, that it was only an automatic spell triggered when she had placed her hand on the rune representing her name. The Drëkøn stated that the spell would activate the persistent urge to head in the direction of what Ŝtanin called the Place of Origin, which Arya instantly knew was the Hadarac Desert as a result of the knowledge of the Drëkøn she had recently acquired.

She glanced up from the food on her plate where she sat at one of the long tables in the large mess hall that had been built for celebrations. Aside from a few groups of town's folk sitting at other tables on the other side of the mess hall, the table Arya sat at was fairly empty, except for those she sat with at the very end of the long table. A crowd of town's folk would occasionally gather around the windows of the mess hall to get a glimpse of a Drëkøn for the first time.

Angela sat in the chair on Arya's right, with Solembum sitting in her lap. She gently stroked his back, but Solembum was not purring as he was being stroked. Instead, the werecat was peering over the edge of the table at Ŝtanin who sat at the head of the table, still wide-eyed from his fear of the Drëkøn.

Roran sat on Arya's left, just off to Ŝtanin's right side, while Nasuada sat opposite from Roran on Ŝtanin's left side. To Nasuada's left were Hölgeron and then Elva to Hölgeron's left.

Two doors had been opened just off to the side of the table to allow Fírnen to stick his head inside.

Food had been served to them all, but only Ŝtanin and Fírnen were feasting. The food had only been placed in front of them only a few minutes earlier, yet half of the large pile of raw steaks, legs, chops and other raw meats placed before Ŝtanin had already been wolfed down. Fírnen had already consumed much of his meal as well.

Ŝtanin gently lifted up his wine goblet by the bottom of the goblets bowl and took a few sips of the wine. That was when the Drëkøn noticed no one had touched their own meals, "Is no one else famished?"

_Not to be blunt about it,_ Solembum spoke first while still staring wide-eyed at Ŝtanin, opening his mind to everyone at the table so they could hear his words, _but it is quite easy to lose one's appetite after witnessing a man that looks like a dragon devour an entire cows worth of meat in less than two minutes._ Angela pinched the tip of Solembum's tail after he finished speaking, causing the werecat to flatten his ears against his head. But the werecat's fearful gaze did not leave the Drëkøn.

Ŝtanin leaned back in the polished wooden chair he sat in, still holding his goblet of wine by the bottom of the bowl. "Forgive me. I'm still getting used to the idea of living in a time where Drëkøn are…well, unknown. I'll have to adapt to your customs; I have a feeling that I will need to."

"Believe me when I say this," said Nasuada, "it's going to take us a very long time getting used to the idea that your kind was born from the dragons, much less even existed."

"Yes well, evolution has a great and ever present influence over all life on this small globe in the cosmos," Ŝtanin replied. The Drëkøn swirled the wine in his goblet twice as everyone gave him confused looks and then added, "A lesson for another time."

"A lesson that I am eager to be a part of," Hölgeron stated.

"And you will," said Ŝtanin, "but at the moment there are more important matters to attend to. First we must wait for the Urgal Rider to arrive here before we can continue anywhere else."

"I'm still unsure as to why you had the three of us have the knowledge of your people forced into our heads," Arya said as she scratched the back of her head again. "What is it that you intend us to do?"

Ŝtanin was silent for a moment as he emptied his goblet of its contents before answering. "It is not I that intends you to do anything. Fate intends the three of you, Angela included, to embark on separate journeys. Where, I am not exactly sure where…only Vrínjäø knew where each of you must go. I'm sure she gave you the knowledge to know where to go, you only just need to discover it yourself from what you now know."

A servant emerged from the kitchen of the mess hall with a glass bottle of wine and filled Ŝtanin's empty goblet. Ŝtanin thanked the servant and took a sip of the wine. He continued from where he had left off, "Vrínjäø was very cryptic when it came to riddles. I would not be surprised if the knowledge she bestowed upon you is just as cryptic. Unfortunately for you Angela, I don't know how you will discover where you must go on your journey, since you refused to have the knowledge given to you."

"Who said I didn't have the knowledge given to me?" Angela responded, causing Ŝtanin to raise a spiked brow as he looked at her questioningly. "The idea of having knowledge from an unknown and ancient race was too tempting."

Ŝtanin let out growl-like chuckle, "It seems there are still some things I need to understand about human nature."

"What? You believed what I said about having unknown knowledge forced into my head?" Angela gave the Drëkøn a sly smile.

"And it seems I still don't know everything there is to know about you," Ŝtanin said.

_You are not as all-knowing as you make yourself to be,_ Fírnen said as he snapped up a goat leg.

Ŝtanin glanced sideways at the green dragon, "You may be right about that."

"Now I have another question," Arya said to get Ŝtanin's attention again. "How will we know when we have found what we need to know for our journeys?"

"I cannot answer that," Ŝtanin replied, "as I do not know the answer. It is knowledge only for you to know, not me. I am only here to help each of you on your journeys. The knowledge each of you were given is only for you to know and no one else."

"And what if they do not understand the knowledge they were given?" asked Nasuada.

"Then my mission would be a failure, and this world and many others of the cosmos, are doomed to destruction," Ŝtanin said as he took another sip of wine from his goblet.

"Your mission?" Roran asked, finally joining the conversation after a moment of silence.

"To make sure that the prophecy is fulfilled, and that It is completely destroyed." Ŝtanin frowned and added, "But it has become more personal than a mission." As he looked down the table aimlessly, he reached up and touched his chest.

"Personal?" That's when Roran noticed the strange gem embedded within the Drëkøn's chest. "What is that?"

Ŝtanin was silent for a few moments before he spoke, his frown easing into a slight smile, "It is what is left of my beloved dragon, T'łiøa. It is her krënat. Or her heart of hearts, as you know it as. She was just over eight thousand years old when she died of old age. Her soul remained within her krënat and she's been with me all this time, here with my krënat."

Again the Drëkøn frowned, "But it is not just her soul that lives within her krënat."

"What do you mean, 'not just her soul'?" Angela asked as she continued to stroke Solembum, whose fearfulness of Ŝtanin had lessened slightly.

Ŝtanin's expression saddened and he lowered his gaze to the wine in his goblet, "Twelve thousand years ago…I did something I should never have done. I invented a spell that would allow me to peer…into another life of mine. Another version of myself living in a cosmos similar to ours in many aspects, yet somewhat different in just as many ways."

"I was curious," Ŝtanin's upper lip curled up into a silent snarl, "I was naïve. I peered into another realm of living to see what my life would be like if I had made certain decisions in that life that I had not made in my life."

"'Another realm of living'?" Hölgeron said as he placed his hand on his chin, pondering something.

"But upon opening a window to peer into that realm," Ŝtanin continued, "I let something from between our two realms into this world and realm. I am at fault for letting It into our world."

"So, in other words," Angela said as she lifted her wine goblet, brought it to her lips and took a sip before placing the goblet back on the table, "you're the reason we're in whatever situation it is that we're in, right?"

The Drëkøn nodded, "Yes. If it were not for me, the prophecy foretold by prehistoric dragons would not have come true." Ŝtanin closed his eyes and fell silent for a few moments. Then he added, "If it were not for me and my naïve curiosity, my dear and beloved mate would not have been fatally wounded…and my species would still be roaming this world if it were not for me."

Arya could sense the genuine grief in Ŝtanin's voice. She studied the Drëkøn's expression carefully and despite him having the face of a dragon, Arya could clearly see that Ŝtanin was reliving a traumatic memory.

"You do no have to tell us what happened if it's hard to talk about, Ŝtanin," Arya said in a reassuring voice.

"No," the Drëkøn responded. He paused for a moment as he glanced outside the window directly to his right and then continued, "It's not that it is hard to talk about, rather…Drëkøn have perfect memory. As much as it is a blessing, sometimes it can be a burden. In any case, I feel the need to tell of what happened that day twelve thousand years ago.

"When I let It into our realm by accident, It 'rewarded' me by slaying my entire clan, my species, in a matter of seconds. Three million Drëkøn; males, females, and children and their lives were extinguished in the blink of an eye with no effort." Ŝtanin's left hand curled into a fist as he relived the memory once more, "I could only watch as three hundred thousand years of a great civilization was wiped from existence…my civilization."

"I'm sorry," Arya said. She was not quite sure if she could imagine what it would be like to lose her people in an instant, but she saw how being the last of the elves would affect her psychologically.

"But thankfully," Ŝtanin continued, "my mate, Řaën, miraculously survived It's attack. But she was barely alive when I got to her. I couldn't bear to lose her, could not bear the thought of living in this world alone and without her." The corner of Ŝtanin's mouth curled up into a slight smile, "If it were not for T'łiøa's quick thinking and her closeness to Řaën, I would have surely lost her forever."

"You saved her?" asked Roran.

Ŝtanin shook his head, "We saved her soul, but we couldn't save her body…at least, not entirely."

"Her heart of hearts," said Nasuada. "You extracted her heart of hearts, didn't you?"

"No. I left her krënat where it was," Ŝtanin replied. "T'łiøa had me…sing Řaën into her."

For a moment, no one said anything when Ŝtanin finished speaking, trying to understand what he had just said. Then Hölgeron broke the silence, "You…sang your mate into your own dragon? Is that even possible? Rather, how does that save your mate?"

"You forget dear Hölgeron," Ŝtanin responded, "Drëkøn magic is far different and far more ancient than that of the ancient language. And yes, I sang Řaën into T'łiøa where her krënat was. By doing so, Řaën's own krënat was joined with T'łiøa's. I saved her soul by singing her into T'łiøa's krënat and thus she continued to live on within T'łiøa. Two minds within the same body." Ŝtanin again touched the gem protruding from his chest as he smiled, "That is why I said that T'łiøa's soul isn't the only one residing within her krënat."

"Two souls in one heart of hearts," Nasuada said. "I didn't think it was possible for there to be more than one soul in a dragon's heart of hearts."

Ŝtanin nodded, "Neither did I, but I accomplished it."

"So, does that mean that there are two more souls within your own heart of hearts?" Angela asked. She had stopped stroking Solembum, who was still quietly eyeing Ŝtanin with both fear and admiration.

Ŝtanin nodded his head slowly, "Correct. I sang T'łiøa's krënat into my chest and merged hers with my krënat. That way Řaën and T'łiøa, the two loves of my life, will forever be with me. Their souls will forever be with my soul, and there is nothing in this world that can separate us."

"And thus there are three minds within the same body," Angela added, "your body."

"They live on within you," Hölgeron stated. "Do you still speak with them?"

Ŝtanin shook his head, "Not at the moment. When I sealed the tomb and petrified myself within the stone, they put themselves in a deep sleep. I can feel Řaën's conscience slowly returning, but T'łiøa is still 'asleep'. I fear that she may have slipped into the null slumber."

_And what is this 'null slumber'?_ Solembum asked.

Ŝtanin did not immediately answer the question. He was silent while he gingerly touched the smooth rounded surface of the heart of hearts that protruded from his chest. Then he said, "When a dragons soul…never awakens from its sleep after it reaches a certain age."

_In other words,_ Solembum said, _you mean to say the dragons soul dies._

Ŝtanin nodded, "You may look at it that way."

_Do not worry yourself Ŝtanin-elda,_ said Fírnen, who had just finished devouring his large pile of raw meats, _I'm sure she has not departed you just yet._

"I can only hope that you are right Fírnen," the Drëkøn said with a sigh.

_If you do not mind my asking Ŝtanin-elda,_ said Fírnen, _how is it that T'łiøa lived for eight thousand years? I thought we could only live for a few hundred years._ Fírnen stuck his head in through the door as much as he could before his horns hit the top of the door frame and his lower jaw rested on the floor.

Ŝtanin smiled at Fírnen, "Evolution blessed early dragons with long life. When I hatched, there were dragons that had been roaming these lands close to ten thousand years before I emerged into the world. But as time went on that gift was slowly taken away as dragons were constantly evolving and by the time the elves arrived in Alagaësia, the average life span of a dragon had been drastically reduced to one thousand years."

The Drëkøn turned his eyes towards Arya, "Now it seems that that number has been further cut in half. Evolution is as generous as it is unforgiving."

Arya looked at Ŝtanin for a few seconds, then to Fírnen. She wondered if the war elves had waged against the dragons had anything to do with the drastic decline in the life span of dragons. She looked back to the Drëkøn as she thought of something, "If it's true that dragons were constantly evolving, wouldn't that be true for your kind since your descendants of dragons?"

"I wish I knew the answer myself," Ŝtanin answered as he looked down at his wobbling reflection in his wine. "But since my people were exterminated with a single thought, I don't think we'll ever know. But it might be that my people were constantly evolving as well. I only wonder what the Drëkøn people would be like now had they been allowed to flourish."

_If dragons had the gift of long life that many thousands of years ago,_ said Fírnen, _did your people have the gift of long life as well?_

"We did indeed," Ŝtanin answered, "that is why I am as old as I am, perhaps the third oldest of my kind."

"How old are you then?" Roran asked as he finally picked up the chicken leg on his plate and bit into it. By that time, it had already grown cold from sitting on his plate for too long.

"I hatched into this world sixteen thousand years ago," Ŝtanin answered, "during a time when Drëkøn civilization was just beginning to rapidly advance." He paused as he tossed back the remaining wine in his goblet and then added, "And four thousand years later…that civilization was no more."

"But if you're people had been walking the earth for three hundred thousand years," said Nasuada, "don't you think your people would have spread to other lands and beyond the ocean? They had three hundred thousand years to develop boats or other means of transportation."

"You are right in that assumption," Ŝtanin said with a nod, "they had that long to do so. But they never built boats, which I am certain of. They traveled the waterways by a different means."

"The Nïdhwal," said Elva, who had been sitting quietly during the whole conversation, listening intently.

Ŝtanin looked towards Elva and nodded slightly, "Correct. The earliest Nïdhwal did not thrive in the sea, like you know them to today. They lived in the lakes and deep rivers of Alagaësia. But I can only hope you are right. My people did have three hundred thousand years to spread from Alagaësia. I want to believe I'm not the last of my kind, but I never found any signs of my people on my travels to lands far beyond Alagaësia."

"That explains why there's a Nïdhwal egg sitting in freshwater rather than saltwater in your tomb," said Angela. She brushed away a loose strand of hair that had fallen over her left eye.

"Yes. The very last egg of a freshwater Nïdhwal," Ŝtanin said. "It is a rather shame that there are no more living in lakes and rivers. I would have liked to see the young Nïdhwal be among its freshwater kin."

"What of the Fanghur egg that was there as well?" Arya asked. "What is its significance?"

Ŝtanin smiled, "The first Fanghur egg laid of three by the first female Fanghur. I was only fifty years old when I witnessed the event. Unfortunately, the Fanghur within never hatched. I assumed that it never stood a chance at hatching, but the other two hatched. The egg has been with me ever since. When I first learned how, I touched the mind of the Fanghur within…it is waiting. For what, I do not know. But it has been waiting all this time, just to hatch."

"The first Fanghur egg laid by the first female Fanghur," Hölgeron said as he caressed his chin, "interesting. I imagine Fanghur looked very similar to dragons back then."

Ŝtanin nodded as he looked towards Fírnen, "That they do. Back then, Fanghur resembled dragons. The only difference was their size and relatively short and powerful legs. A full grown Fanghur was no bigger than three of your horses standing in a line."

"That's about as big as they get today," said Arya, "only now they appear more serpentine than dragon."

"And they have been known to attack people and cattle in the Beor Mountains," Angela added to Arya's statement. "Very nasty creatures they are."

"It's a shame that neither humans nor elves domesticated either of the Nïdhwal and Fanghur," Ŝtanin stated, "the Fanghur were extraordinary in their endurance levels, able to cross hundreds on miles for days without water. And the Nïdhwal were just as capable of traveling many miles thanks to their quickness in the water."

"By domesticating, do you mean becoming their Riders? Just like humans and elves did with dragons before the Rider War?" Roran asked as he placed the chicken leg on his plate, picked clean of all its meat.

"That I do," Ŝtanin replied as he slowly turned the empty goblet in his left hand.

"Speaking of Riders," said Nasuada, "you said you're the Rider Forgotten by Time?"

Ŝtanin stopped turning the goblet in his hand and looked down at his right palm, which had the distinct silvery shape of the gedwëy ignasia, "I'm the first Rider. And the one you refer to as Eragon, the first elf to bond with a dragon during the war between elves and dragons, was my apprentice."

"But…then why is there no mention of there being another Rider before Eragon?" Hölgeron asked as he rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward.

"Because once I taught Eragon everything he needed to know in order to succeed as a Rider," Ŝtanin said while still gazing down at the gedwëy ignasia on the palm of his right hand, "I cast a spell that erased T'łiøa and I from Eragon and Bid'Daum's memories and altered the memories of how they acquired the skills they learned. It was a difficult decision to make. No master ever desires to do that to their own pupil, but it was necessary."

"Why would it have been necessary?" Angela asked giving Stanin a confused look. "You could have just made them both swear in the ancient language to never reveal your existence."

"It was necessary because the war between elves and dragons was still raging," Ŝtanin answered as he glanced up at Angela. "I told Eragon of everything that had transpired thousands of years before, when It emerged from Its realm into ours. I couldn't have him walking around with that knowledge; it would have been too dangerous for him to carry that knowledge with him."

"A difficult decision as a master," Hölgeron stated, "but a necessary precaution in order to keep the potential of the prophecy from going awry."

"Precisely. However, T'łiøa could not prevent herself from involving herself with bringing peace between dragons and elves."

Arya thought of the tales regarding Eragon and the negotiation for peace between elves and dragons. Then, it struck her that in almost every tale an unknown white dragon had been involved, "The unnamed white dragon that helped Bid'Daum and Eragon in their negotiations. That was T'łiøa, wasn't it?"

Ŝtanin nodded slowly, "That was her. Unfortunately, when the negotiations were done and she returned to me, she began dying the following day. That was the day I merged her krënat with mine and when I sealed the tomb with myself inside.

"However, the Converted knew of her presence in the negotiations. Two even followed her here and waited until I had sealed the tomb and petrified myself. They then attempted to enter the tomb to destroy me. Ever since then over the last few thousand years, many Converted tried to do the same."

"Converted?" Arya asked as she picked up her goblet and took a sip of wine.

"Individuals that have been forced to follow It through irreversible magic," Ŝtanin replied. "And the most recent one to attempt to destroy me was the night just before the rains stopped."

"What?" Roran asked, a bit shocked by the information.

"Yes, a young male who perhaps only recently had It's spell activate, rendering him a Converted."

"Who was it?" Roran asked, his concern of a dangerous enemy within Oestaerya mounting.

"I believe it was the boy-"

Ŝtanin was cut short when a sudden loud boom was heard, followed by the trembling of the earth beneath everyone's feet. All of the glass panes in the windows shattered and a wall of dust burst through the front doors of the mess hall, filling the air with a choking amount of dirt particles.

_Everyone!_ Fírnen said as he struggled to remove his head from the side doorway, _This way, quickly!_

That was all that needed to be said, for everyone at the table stood simultaneously and proceeded to feel their way to the door through the choking brown haze while covering their mouths. Nasuada and Elva both covered their mouths with handkerchiefs, while Hölgeron, Roran and Arya covered their mouths with their arms. Solembum and Angela reached Fírnen first at the door, who was still struggling to extract his head from the doorway.

Solembum scurried underneath Fírnen's huge jaw with ease, while Angela leaned her back against his snout and pushed with all her might. Roran and Hölgeron both reached the doorway next and aided Angela in pushing Fírnen's head out the doorway.

The wooden frame above the doorway began to create and groan and buckle, but held. Fírnen tried moving his head slightly side to side and the wood around the doorframe began to crack.

Finally with a mighty crack of wood, the entire door frame buckled and snapped and Fírnen withdrew his head from the door. No sooner had Fírnen withdrew his head did everyone exit the mess hall in a hurry.

The air outside the mess hall was not as polluted with dirt and dust particles, but it still irritated everyone's eyes and throats.

As Arya exited the mess hall, she heard Ŝtanin speak a word in his native tongue, "Fràinloú!" No sooner had Ŝtanin finished saying the word did Arya hear a great whooshing sound and then felt a powerful wind blow passed her. In a few seconds, the dust in the air had been blown away, allowing everyone to breathe the cool and crisp air of the night again.

Ŝtanin stepped outside of the mess hall and looked to his left; towards the center of Oestaerya.

_Ŝtanin-elda,_ said Fírnen as he also looked towards the center of Oestaerya, _I feel…a menacing evil coming from the center of the village._

"I feel it as well," Ŝtanin replied. "No doubt, it is one It's crooked minions. I believe you refer to them as, 'Ra'zac'?"

"No," Roran said, dreading what he heard, "not now! Why is a Ra'zac here?"

"Roran,' Arya said to him calmly, "now is not the time to question. We must take care of it before anything else happens."

A stream of villagers began making their way away from the center of the village. Some of the villagers were limping, while others had blood running from open wounds.

Roran glanced at Arya and nodded in response, "Right." He drew his hammer from his belt, "Let's show our guest the way out of the village." With that, he quickly made his way through the oncoming stream of villagers, where all the activity was occurring. Ŝtanin quickly followed behind him.

Arya turned towards Hölgeron, "Make sure Queen Nasuada and Elva get out of here safely. Stay with them once you have found someplace safe and away from the village. And see if you can calm the villagers as well." She glanced at Angela, who was tucking her handkerchief into a pocket in her skirt, "You should go with them as well."

"Are you kidding me?" Angela said in a somewhat offended tone. "This is the first time in five and a half years anything exciting has happened. I'd like to get in on the action as much as you do."

Solembum appeared next to Angela in his human form, "It'd be better to have us with you, Arya," he said. Solembum had not changed much since Arya had last seen him, albeit his height; his head now reached above Angela's hips.

Arya nodded, "Very well, then lets go." She turned and headed into the crowd of people, which was now beginning to thin out as everyone evacuated the center of the village.

Fírnen unfurled his wings and leaped into the air. _I will meet you there, little one._

ͼͽ

"Why did Irethil and Dheker forbid me from entering?" Eragon asked as he nervously paced the width of the large corridor leading to a section of the nursery made specifically for female dragons to lay their eggs. "I deserve to be in there as much as they do. I'm her Rider!"

Blödhgarm stared passed Eragon at the large iron doors of the nesting area, cradling Kaeshta in his arms. "They have experience, you do not."

Eragon glanced at Blödhgarm, "But why would that prevent me from being there with Saphira?"

Blödhgarm smiled, "Because you're human, Eragon. Humans can't help but be nervous when their dragon is laying her eggs. Not only that, but when a dragon is laying her eggs for the first time she is more than likely to be uncomfortable in the presence of her Rider."

Eragon shook his head as he turned on the heel of his boot and paced back the way he had just come, "Uncomfortable? Why would she be uncomfortable around me?"

"Eragon," Blödhgarm said, causing Eragon to stop and look at the furred elf, "do not forget that dragons possess the same emotions as humans. Do recall that when Katrina was delivering, she did not allow Roran to be present. Do you know why?"

"Because she feared that her child would be born with a disability," Eragon said, resuming his pacing.

"Precisely," Blödhgarm replied. Kaeshta yawn and stood up in his arms, stretched much like a cat, hopped up onto Blödhgarm's left shoulder and perched there. Her dazzling deep purple eyes followed Eragon as he resumed pacing back and forth.

Each of his steps on the flat, polished granite floor sent echoes down the high arched corridor and out into the large nursery chamber. Eragon stopped to admire the colorful fairth in the stone. It was in the shape of a very realistic and pearlescent dragon egg resting in a stony and straw nest. The egg itself was not a defined color; the surface of the egg changed colors as light would bounce off at certain angles. It oulwd be bright hue of red at one point and then change to a deep and dark shade of blue or even green as one passed over it. It had been Eragon's idea for the fairth, but it had been Irethil who had created the fairth, as she had more experience creating fairths with life-like details and colors.

Eragon closed his eyes and took a deep breathe, "But what would Saphira have to fear? She is not giving birth to live young."

Kaeshta snorted, seemingly in response to Eragon's question. He felt Kaeshta brush his mind and he opened his mind to hers. A rough image of a dragon curled up around her nest full of eggs appeared. Eragon did not quite understand what Kaeshta was showing him until he took a closer look at the eggs and the dragon's expression. All of the eggs had not fully developed within the mothers' womb, making them small, colorless and deformed. Looking closely at the dragon, Eragon could see that the dragon was mourning the loss of each of the eggs in the nest, her sadness evident from her expression.

Eragon looked down and closed his eyes, fully understanding what Kaeshta had shown him. "She's afraid that her eggs might not have developed properly."

Blödhgarm nodded his head, "Yes. It is every mothers' worst fear; that their first child did not survive within her womb or did not develop properly that the child is born with defects. Just like humans and elves, a mother dragon also has this same fear."

Eragon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He understood the necessity for privacy, but he was frustrated that he could not be there beside Saphira to comfort her. He was very worried as this was the first clutch of dragon eggs to be laid in over a century, but he resisted the urge to barge through the doors.

Eragon glanced over towards the heavy iron doors that lead into the nesting chambers as roar emanated from within and echoed through the corridor.

"I only wish that I could be there for her," Eragon said as he began to pace once more.

"I know you do," Blödhgarm responded, "but it is better for you to be here. You just need to trust in Irethil and Dheker and their knowledge of aiding a mother dragon in laying her first clutch of eggs."

Eragon nodded his head again and glanced at the iron doors to the nesting chambers once more when he heard Saphira roar again. He looked back down at the floor as his mind wandered for a moment. His thoughts fell upon Roran and Arya again and the strange sensation he and Blödhgarm had felt a day earlier. _I hope that strange sensation does not mean either of them are in trouble. I hope they're both alright,_ he thought. _Oh how I long to return home…but I cannot. My responsibilities here are much too important. I cannot abandon the new city of the Riders now._

That's when Eragon realized that after five and a half years, the city still had no name. He turned to Blödhgarm to ask him about names, "What shall we name the city once we have finished the necessary construction projects?"

Blödhgarm turned his attention to Eragon and thought about the question for a moment before he answered. "I am unsure. What do you wish to name it, Eragon? You are, after all, the one who founded this city."

Eragon shook his head, "It wasn't just me alone, Blödhgarm. It was also you, Irethil, Dheker, Sedrit, Glaedr, Saphira and everyone else who came with us that founded this city."

"True," Blödhgarm said with a nod, "but you are the one we all followed. You led the way here, to this location where the new city is being built. You are the one who led all of us here."

"I did," Eragon said, accepting that fact that he led everyone to the crater, that he had wanted the next city of the Riders to be in the crater. "But I'd like to think that we all took part in founding this city, not just me alone."

Blödhgarm nodded his head in response, understanding what Eragon meant. Eragon did not wish to be the only one to be recognized as the person who founded the new city; he did not want all the fame and glory, he wanted all to be remembered and Blödhgarm understood that fully well. They all founded this city together; no one was going to take all the glory for themselves.

ͼͽ

The wind howled outside, beating against the glass panes of the windows of Murtagh's study. The storm had blown through in the early morning of the day before and had not stopped since. Murtagh had confined himself to his quarters and study.

He whittled the time away by writing down his most memorable experiences, starting from the day he bonded with Thorn, to the day Galbatorix was defeated and Murtagh was able to spend a few minutes with Nasuada. He had already filled at least a dozen scrolls with writing and was beginning to become frustrated. He had already written down his experience of when he and Thorn turned on Galbatorix and helped Eragon defeat the tyrant king.

Murtagh sign and placed his quill back into the ink well. He pushed himself away from his desk, stood up and paced over to the large stone hearth in the study. Thorn rested peacefully nearby the blazing fire within the hearth, sleeping comfortably in the heat of the fire.

As Murtagh approached the hearth, he could hear Thorn snoring. Murtagh had noticed Thorn's snoring only a month before; at first he thought it was some sort of sickness Thorn had developed, but quickly recognized that it wasn't. He thought it humorous that something as large as a dragon would snore just like a human would.

He stopped just a few feet away from the blazing hearth, pondering what his recent urge to return to Alagaësia meant. He crossed his arms over his chest as he tried to understand what the strange sensations he had felt the other day meant. _Am I longing to return to Alagaësia because of who I left behind?_ Murtagh wondered. _No, why would I be longing now after five and a half years? Why now after I felt the strange sensation? And what does the name Oestaerya mean?_

Murtagh chewed on the inside of his lower lip as he stared aimlessly into the writhing orange flames. He shook his head after a few minutes, unable to find anything that would help him understand his new and strange urge to return home.

_Maybe I have just been away for too long,_ he thought, _maybe this is what homesickness feels like._ Whatever the case, Murtagh wasn't about to return home just yet. He wasn't about to abandon his new home in the beautiful mountainous lands of what he called the Nasuada Mountains. He loved Nasuada, he truly missed her, but he was not yet ready to return.

He closed his eyes and a soft smile appeared on his face, _Do not worry my love. I will return to you soon enough._

ͼͽ

Roran hit the ground next to Angela as the Ra'zac effortlessly tossed him and Angela aside. Solembum landed on his back next to him, having received a kick to the gut.

"Roran!" Ŝtanin snarled as he jumped back near Roran to avoid the Ra'zac's deadly claws, "I said stay away! This is not your fight!"

Roran stood up and picked up his hammer again, "No offence Ŝtanin, but this thing killed twelve of my people, including Ta'rol! This is as much my fight as it is yours!"

Ŝtanin shot a menacing glare over his shoulder at Roran and growled angrily, "This is my fight Roran! It's after me! Not you or your people! The boy was a Converted; he was the one that brought the daecri to the village!" The Drëkøn ducked down as the Ra'zac lunged forward and swung at his head with its short leaf-bladed sword, its jagged edge glinting in the light of the early dawn.

As the Ra'zac's sword passed over Ŝtanin's head, Roran leaped forward and swung his hammer upwards, catching the Ra'zac beneath its beak. The force of blow whipped the Ra'zac's head back and sent it several yards backwards through the air. It hit the ground with a thud, causing it to let out a series of clicking like sounds upon impacting the ground.

"Aye," Roran said panting and then gave Ŝtanin a stern look, "Ta'rol may have been a Converted, but he was still one of my people. This isn't just your fight; this is my fight as well. This foul creature mercilessly killed my people, so don't tell me that this isn't my fight!"

Ŝtanin's upper lip curled up into a silent snarl, "So be it. But if you must fight, then we fight together."

"Fine by me," Roran responded. He looked back towards the Ra'zac as it jumped to its gnarled feet.

Suddenly, it spoke in a high-pitched screeching voice, "Human! Away with you! I have no interesssst in slaying you! I have come for the head of the delnact!" It twirled its sword by the handle between its gruesome fingers in a circular fashion, "Leave now and I shall sssspare your pathetic village!"

Roran spit towards the Ra'zac, "Foul creature! Nothing you say will ever make me leave! I am here kill you for the lives of twelve of my people that you took! They did not deserve death!"

The Ra'zac began to slowly circle, Roran and Ŝtanin did the same to keep the Ra'zac directly in front of them, "They were foolish to sssstand in my way!"

"No," Roran as he glared at the Ra'zac, "they were not foolish…they were protecting the village from you! And Ta'rol…he wasn't an expendable resource like you treated him to be; he was a human being!"

"A human being sssserving Him!" the Ra'zac exclaimed. "There is no esssscaping His power! Once a ssssoul has fallen under His sssspell, there is nothing they can do but obey His instructionssss!"

"And that is why It must be purged from this world," Ŝtanin said, placing each clawed foot over the other as he circled the Ra'zac. He held his white greatsword with both hands and pointed the tip of it directly at the Ra'zac. "It does not understand humanity. It only knows death and destruction!"

"Hah!" the Ra'zac exclaimed again. "He doessss not care for humanity! But he has promised ussss the entire human race to be ourssss once we bring your head to him, delnact!

"Daecri!" Ŝtanin shouted angrily, "Do you not understand? It does not care about humanity alone. It does not care about any life! The daecri are just another resource for It to use. If you do fulfill Its orders, you, along with this entire world will be destroyed!"

"Liessss! All liessss!" the Ra'zac shouted as it lunged forward again, slashing its sword at Ŝtanin.

The Drëkøn stepped to the side and effortlessly swung the greatsword at an upward diagonal angle across the Ra'zac's side. The Ra'zac screeched upon feeling the cold edge of the blade cutting through its flesh. Then, holding his hammer by the handle with both hands, Roran swung his hammer upwards with all his might and made contact with the Ra'zac's chest. The force of the blow sent the Ra'zac flipping into the air about twenty feet over Roran's head. Roran was slightly shocked by how high he managed to lift the Ra'zac off the ground.

As the Ra'zac reached the peak of its momentum upwards Fírnen, who had been anxiously watching for an opportunity to strike at the Ra'zac, gracefully leaped up into the air and swatted at the Ra'zac. His paw, which was twice the size of the Ra'zac, struck the helpless creature and sent it back down to the ground. Fírnen dropped back to the ground, landing on his back feet first before his front paws touched the ground.

The Ra'zac's body bounced as it crashed into the ground and rolled twice before settling on its back. Roran and Ŝtanin approached the limp creature lying on the ground. Roran gripped the handle of his hammer tightly while Ŝtanin rested part of his greatsword on his right shoulder.

Arya appeared by Roran's side. He glanced at her and noticed that blood trickled from a small cut above her right eye were the Ra'zac had struck her with the back of its hand after it broke her guard while she fought it. "Are you alright, Arya?" Roran asked.

She nodded, "I'm fine. A little head trauma is not going to affect me."

"It hit you pretty hard," Roran stated as his eyes fell back upon the Ra'zac. "I saw you were very dazed by the blow."

"That was a few minutes ago, Roran," Arya responded as she cast him a reassuring glance. "You need not worry about me."

"But I do need to worry about you," said Roran. The three of them reached the dazed Ra'zac and stood around it. Roran looked up at Arya for a moment, "You're not just the Queen of the elves, but you're also a friend."

Arya glanced at him again and smiled, "Thank you Roran for your concern. But I assure you that I'll be fine."

A spitting sound came from below them and Arya and Roran returned their gazes down to the Ra'zac on the ground. "It doessss not matter if you are fine now," it spat at them, "you will not have long to live."

"Daecri," Ŝtanin said as he looked down at the Ra'zac with remorse, "look at how It has poisoned your mind with lies. The future you seek is nonexistent."

"Delnact, you have no idea the deal we have sssstruck with Him!" the Ra'zac hissed at Ŝtanin. "You have no idea what he has promised ussss!"

"What did It promise you?" Arya asked as she wiped away the blood as it trickled into her eye.

The Ra'zac began to make a coughing sound as it cackled, resting its black unblinking stare upon Arya, "Much more than any mortal being could ever have! Our speciessss shall live in immortal glory for all eternity!"

Ŝtanin closed his eyes and sighed, "As I said before daecri, It has poisoned your mind with lies. It knows not how to speak truth; Its words are all hollow."

The Ra'zac suddenly lunged up at Arya while screeching, "Liessss!"

But the Ra'zac did not make it far off the ground as the tip of Ŝtanin's greatsword plunged into its chest, pinning it to the ground. Its gruesome beak parted as it let out gurgling noises. It wrapped its hands around the white blade of the greatsword, trying to pull the blade from its chest but to no avail as Ŝtanin held it in place.

Roran stepped over the Ra'zac, knelt down by its right side and glared down into its unblinking stare, "I can tell you this right now. You'll never see this dream of yours come true. You'll be burning for all eternity wherever foul souls like you go after death. You won't be basking in any immortal glory." Roran raised his hammer high over his head, "This is for the people you slaughtered today!"

He brought the head of the hammer down atop the Ra'zac's face. The Ra'zac hissed, but remained conscious. Again, Roran raised his hammer over his head, "This is for every human you've ever murdered!" He smashed the hammer down into the Ra'zac's face again, cracking the top half of its beak; still it remained conscious. Once more Roran raised his hammer and shouted, "This is for Alagaësia!" Roran brought down his hammer with all his might and smashed the head into the Ra'zac's right eye, causing its eye socket to cave in with a splattering noise. Upon impact, Roran felt the head of the hammer break free from its handle.

Ŝtanin bowed his head and chanted softly in his native tongue, "Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri."

He lifted the handle away from the Ra'zac's head, leaving the head of the hammer resting in the Ra'zac's eye socket. The head of the hammer itself had cracked under the impact as well. Roran looked down at the handle in his hand with disbelief. He was unable to believe that after so many years of use, his hammer had finally given under the pressure of usage. His most trusted weapon…had finally died.

Roran's emotions were mixed. He felt happy that he was able to use his hammer after five and a half long years, glad he was able to fight with it one more time and use it to protect his village from an enemy. However, at the same time he was sad that he'd never be able to use it again. Despite Eragon reinforcing the hammers effectiveness with magic, the magic had not been able to protect the hammer against the wear and tear of both time and use.

Roran remembered how he had used the hammer to rebel against the Ra'zac and Galbatorix's troops to save the villagers of Carvahall. He remembered how he earned the nickname Stronghammer after the Boar's Eye in Surda. Roran remembered the Battle of The Burning Plains, when he used the hammer to kill the Twins and earned the trust of the Varden. He remembered how he had fought valiantly and dispatched nearly two hundred men at the battle in Urȗ'baen. Roran felt as if he had just lost a loved one, as if someone he was very close to had died suddenly under unknown circumstances.

Arya knelt down next to Roran and placed her hand on his shoulder, "Roran…I'm sorry about everything."

Roran cast his eyes up to the dead villagers lying a few yards away from where they were, "They were all brave. They saw this foul beast and immediately took it upon themselves to protect the village. They were brave, but they did not deserve to die."

"Nothing could have been done to prevent their deaths Roran," Ŝtanin said as he wrenched his greatsword out of the Ra'zac's chest. "Destiny lay their paths before their feet…and they walked those paths with courage."

"And what about Ta'rol?" Roran asked. "What about the boy who had no control over his own actions? Was that the path destiny laid before his feet?"

Ŝtanin closed his eyes as he replaced his greatsword on his back on the metal hinges attached to the leather strap that crossed his back and chest. "Yes, unfortunately that is what destiny intended him to do. I'm sorry Roran, but It's curse was embedded within him, possibly passed down to him through an ancestor or perhaps his mother or father. There's nothing that can be done once someone becomes a Converted."

Roran stood up and cast the handle of his hammer down to the ground. His eyes met with Ŝtanin's and the two stared at one another. Roran knew he had to trust the Drëkøn; he didn't believe it, but he knew that fate had brought them together. However, he couldn't help but feel that it was Ŝtanin's fault that twelve people were killed, that it was Ŝtanin's fault Ta'rol had turned traitor as a result of an ancient curse. Roran felt anger towards the Drëkøn for having caused the prophecy of the dragons to come true…but he also felt that it could not have been avoided; he knew Ŝtanin was an ally. Roran knew that the Drëkøn truly regretted being the cause for everything that happened here and that there was nothing that could have been done to prevent this from happening.

"I know how you feel, Roran," Ŝtanin said calmly in his deep voice. "I'm truly sorry for everything…but I know that there is nothing I can say that will alleviate your anger with me. I'm sorry for being the reason of this immense burden falling upon your shoulders. But right now, we need to put this in the past. We need to trust one another if we are to do this together."

Arya spoke in Roran's ear, "Roran, I understand what you must be feeling right now. But the boy was forced into bringing the Ra'zac here against his will. You saw him; he was not rational. He had no control over his actions. Whatever happened to him, it was not the boy you knew that died here today. The boy you once knew died days ago."

Roran glanced at Arya and gazed into her eyes. He knew she was right, but he still could help but feel that Ŝtanin was to blame, "You're right. That wasn't Ta'rol that took his own life to get our attention. Ta'rol died days ago." He looked back up at Ŝtanin, "But none of this would have happened if we hadn't stumbled upon your tomb. You'd have been better off keeping the title of Rider Forgotten by Time."

Ŝtanin bowed his head, "Yes, none of this would have happened and I would have kept my title…but it did happen, Roran Stronghammer. This is how fate, how destiny works. It can be just as cruel as it is kind." Ŝtanin opened his eyes and looked down at Roran once more.

They both stared sternly at one another for a few more moments before Roran averted his eyes to the ground. He sighed and his anger subsided, "I always knew there was still something in this world that I had to be a part of. I always knew…I had a purpose in this world." He looked around him as Angela, Solembum and Fírnen gathered around them, "I think we all knew we still had something to do."

"Darn right about that," Angela said as she wiped away the blood running from her nose with her handkerchief.

"I as well," Solembum said with a nod. "I knew that peace would not last long after Galbatorix was defeated."

"I always felt that I had some kind of purpose," Arya stated as her eyes went from Angela, to Ŝtanin and then to Roran, "and not just being the queen of the elves."

Roran and Arya both nodded at one another. Then Roran looked to the Drëkøn once more, "Alright…now, when do we move forward?"

**Ä**

**End Chapter 5**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Pronunciation of Names<span>  
>Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh<br>Arya: AR-ee-uh  
><strong>**Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker****  
><strong>Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon<strong>  
><strong>Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn<strong>  
><strong>Fírnen: FEER-nin<strong>  
><strong>Flarolth: fla-roll-th<strong>  
><strong>Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks<br>Glaedr: GLAY-dur**  
><strong>Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on<br>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<strong>******  
>Raiga: RIE-gah(rie rhymes with <em>lie<em>)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree<br>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane************  
>Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the **Drëkøn name for R'zac****)  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: wind<strong>  
>krënat: <strong>Drëkøn word for e<strong>ldunarí.<strong>**  
>Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.<strong>

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>Argetlam - Silverhand<br>elda - a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
>fairth - a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate<br>gedwëy ignasia - shining palm**


	6. Strength of a Thousand Men

**8/12/12 Alright guys! Who's ready to learn more about one of the newest characters to the IC? Because chapter 6 is ALL about the Urgal Rider Raiga and her beloved dragon Criiztak. In this chapter, I try as best as I can to further develop Raiga and Criiztak's characters so that they fit the Urgal culture appropriately. I admit, this is one of the tougher chapters I've written, as I'm not very familiar with the Urgal culture, despite having read all four books of the IC. But not only was this chapter one of the tougher one's to write, but it was a hell of a lot of fun to write. Why was this chapter fun? Because not only do you guys get to learn more about Raiga and Criiztak's characters, but you also get to see them grow on their journey. And on their journey isn't exactly without its dangers, as you'll find out in this exciting chapter. Hope you enjoy the read guys!  
>820/2012 Chapter edited slightly with a bit more content, some error corrections, deleted repeated and unnecessary words, grammatical fixes, etc.  
>1012/12 Chapter thoroughly edited with many more grammatical corrections, fixed repeated or missing words, modified quite a few sentences, etc. Chapter is in final draft stage.**

* * *

><p>613/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

Strength of a Thousand Men

Criiztak landed heavily on dried grassy ground just on the edge of a small stand of trees. The light blue dragon walked over to the stand of trees and dropped on his belly to the ground in the shade. He rest his head on the ground as he panted heavily, having flown non-stop for an entire day and night.

Raiga slowly slid out of the crude saddle on Criiztak's back, tired and cold from the long journey. She was hungry and sore as well, for she had not eaten since the day they left her father and the Urgal caravan to embark on their journey. It was the first time in her life she was truly away from her people, away from the arguing and bickering. It was also the first time Criiztak had flown through an entire day and night.

As soon as her left foot touched solid ground, Raiga collapsed onto the hard and dried grass below. She rolled over onto her back and spread her arms out on either side of her. Criiztak opened one lilac eye when he heard her fall to the ground. He reached out his mind to her and spoke in the Urgal language, _Are you alright, my dear little huntress?_

Raiga closed her eyes and slowly nodded her head, unable to muster enough energy to speak. For once Raiga was both physically and mentally exhausted. The cold had sapped much of the energy from her as well as her muscles. Sitting on the back of a dragon for one day and night had caused many of her muscles to tighten and cramp up, making it hard to move. The lack of sleep had also drained her mentally as she was not used to flying for long periods of time, particularly at night.

But Raiga knew that Criiztak was just as exhausted from the long flight, for he had done most of the work to get them where they were. She knew that Criiztak would need food and water if he was to keep moving forward to their destination.

Slowly, Raiga picked herself up off the ground. Her sore muscles protested by burning every time she moved and exerted them. But she was partially used to this kind of physical pain, as her father had trained her in endurance from the day she was able to walk. Her father was strict about maintaining physical fitness and ignoring pain and soreness was key to not just fitness, but survival as well. If there was one thing that Raiga valued from her time among her people, it was everything that her father had taught her. She valued her training as a warrior more than anything, despite being a female.

Raiga stood up onto her feet and held her arms out to steady herself on her wobbly legs. She looked towards Criiztak, who was still panting heavily. Each time the light blue dragon drew a breath, it sounded like a wind blowing through a narrow tunnel of a cave. Raiga smiled, happy that she had Criiztak with her. Criiztak was the only thing that truly mattered to her in her young life. He was the only thing she's ever held dear to her heart and he was the very thing that gave her a sense of purpose.

_I am going to search for food and water,_ Raiga said as she gently brushed her mind against Criiztak's. Criiztak only responded by opening his left eye halfway to briefly look at her before closing his eye again.

Raiga turned her head towards the trees. Although it was only a small stand of leafy trees in the middle of dried grass and scrublands, it was very dark within the trees. Raiga glanced up towards the sun; it was midday.

She looked back, took a deep breath and walked forward into the trees. No sooner had she walked passed the trunks of the outer trees, Raiga immediately fell into darkness. She lifted her left hand up in front of her face, but could not even see it even though it was a mere few inches from her nose.

_Be careful,_ Criiztak said to her. Raiga glanced over her towards Criiztak. He was watching her nervously as she walked further and further into the darkness._ I do not believe I will be able to help you in time if something happens. Be alert, my little huntress._

Raiga looked back into the darkness, _Do not fear for me. I shall return to you with food soon._ Her eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness with each cautious step she took. Soon she was able to make out the straight forms of the trunks around her, allowing her to navigate through the maze of dark trees. As she advanced deeper into the darkness, Raiga kept her hand on the hilt of her dagger.

ͼͽ

Twenty minutes had passed since she had entered the perpetual darkness. Though her eyes had by that time adjusted to the darkness, Raiga still had trouble navigating among the hulking tree trunks. She often stumbled over the tangled network of exposed roots above ground. Still she remained vigilant of every little sound around her and kept her right hand firmly on the hilt of her dagger.

Then, Raiga stepped around from behind a rather large tree trunk and out of the darkness of the forest. She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight. She blinked several times before she looked up to see where the sunlight was coming from. There was a large opening within the canopy of the dark trees, allowing a good amount of sunlight to shine down on the ground below.

Raiga took another step forward into the sunlight and lowered her hand. Directly in front of her, in the center of the sunlit area was a small circular pond. A few small cattails grew in small clusters around the edge of the crystal clear waters. Raiga could hear frogs croaking somewhere by the waters edge, a sound she had heard many times before and was all too familiar with.

But as she took another step further into the light, Raiga became aware of another sound, one she was not familiar with. It was almost like a panting noise, but sounded closer to that of a mixture of the hissing and spitting of a snake. She froze upon hearing the sound, trying to distinguish from where the sound was coming from. As she scanned the edge of the sunlit area around the pond, Raiga nervously but carefully edged back into the darkness and hid among the tangle of tree roots.

She sat in the cover of the roots and darkness as she nervously waited for whatever creature there was to emerge somewhere from the darkness. She grew tense with every passing second, gripping the handle of her dagger tighter and tighter, unaware that her knuckles had gone numb.

The strange hissing spit sounds continued to approach closer, echoing softly back and forth among the silent tree trunks. Raiga knew that it was the distinct hissing of a snake, as well as the spitting noise they made, but she had never heard a snake quite as loud as what she was hearing.

As she watched the far edge of the darkness on the opposite side of the pond, Raiga thought she could see something moving; she thought she had seen sunlight reflect off some kind of smooth surface within the darkness. She squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of what she thought she had seen. All the while, Raiga's anxiety grew more and more as she kept her eyes transfixed on that one spot of darkness on the other side of the pond. Not one muscle in Raiga's body moved nor twitched at all.

Then, a dark and slender form emerged from the darkness, almost seemingly to detach from the darkness from which it stepped out of. Raiga's eye's widened in awe upon seeing the creature. She also felt something she had never once before felt in her life; fear. The very sight of the dark and slender creature sent a fearful chill running down her spin.

More and more details of the creature came into view as it stepped further into the sunlight. The creature walked in an upright position on two legs, albeit the upper body being slightly hunched forward. It stood on legs that closely resembled those of the lizards Raiga had seen in the plains below the mountains of The Spine. The feet, however, were similar to those of a mountain-lions feet, with short toes and large talons on the end of each toe, albeit the feet were slightly more bulky around the ankles than those of the lions. A long slender tail slid out of the darkness on the ground behind the creature; the tail was easily twice as long has the creatures body length.

The creature stepped further into the sunlight, revealing that its entire body was covered with many small and smooth black scales.

Raiga's eyes went up from the creature's lower body, up its very slender and snake-like belly before meeting its upper body and torso. Where the snake-like belly ended, a very wide and human-like torso began. The arms were long and muscular, with claws adorning the tips of each finger. A dead hare hung limply in the grip of its left hand.

Then, Raiga saw the head of the creature, which sat on the end of an elongated, snake-like neck. Its jaws were parted, exposing the soft pink tissue of its mouth. A row of backwards curved needle-like teeth lined the edge of its jaws and a pair of long fangs protruded from its upper jaw. A long, very slender forked tongue hung from its mouth, the tips of the forks twitching with each hissing-spit pant. The creature's unblinking eyes were very serpentine, the pupils being elongated vertical slits and the head being shaped like that of a snake.

That's when Raiga finally realized that she was looking at a tall, serpentine humanoid creature. The serpentine humanoid was a frightful sight, but a magnificently frightful sight at that. Never had Raiga seen such a creature before nor had she ever heard of any descriptions of a creature that resembled what she saw before her.

The serpentine creature took a few more steps closer to the pond before it released its hold on the dead hare. The hare hit the ground at the edge of the pond with a soft thump just as the creature dropped forward onto its hands into the water. It extended its neck forward, dipped its lower jaw into the clear water and proceeded to slurp up mouthfuls of water.

Raiga watched the creature with fearful awe. Every instinct told her to get away, to leave the creature unaware of her presence, but her feet refused to move from where she crouched behind an uplifted root. She hadn't realized that she had broken into a cold sweat until a droplet of sweat had rolled down the bridge of her nose and dripped from the tip of her nose, falling to the ground and hitting the dirt with a silent pat.

No sooner had the droplet of sweat hit the ground did the creature stop, close its jaws and look up in the direction of where Raiga crouched behind the root. Raiga gripped the handle of her dagger even tighter when the creature looked directly at her for a brief few seconds. She had to get out of there, but her feet refused to move. Raiga slowly and quietly unsheathed her dagger as the creature continued to look around, searching for the source of the noise it had heard.

Still frozen with fear and keeping her eye on the creature, Raiga lowered the point of the black bladed dagger until the tip touched her right thigh. She hesitated as she contemplated what she was about to do, but she knew it was necessary if she was to even have a chance at sneaking away unnoticed. She bit her lower lip, slowly drew a silent deep breath and with all the strength she could muster, plunged the eight and a half inch blade of the dagger halfway into her thigh.

Raiga shut her eyes tightly as the pain shot up through the whole of her leg. However, fearing that the creature may have somehow spotted her, she opened her eyes and looked up towards the beast. To her relief, she had remained undetected. She watched as it flicked out its forked tongue several times, batting up and down a few times before retreating back between the creatures jaws.

The serpentine creature lowered its head down and resumed gulping up the crystal clear water. Raiga quietly exhaled and fell forward onto her knees, her feet finally free from her fear driven paralysis. She drew quick breaths, fighting off the urge to cry out or groan in pain as she pulled her dagger free from her thigh. She quickly wiped the blood from the dagger onto the skirt of her hide tunic to prevent any loose drops from falling to the ground.

_I must leave at once_, Raiga thought to herself as she turned to head away from the sunlit pond and leave the strange serpentine beast alone. _This place is too dangerous for a lone hunter like myself._

She made as little noise as she possibly could as she limped back into the darkness. Putting weight on her right leg sent shocks of pain up her leg and spine, as well as producing gushes of warm blood from the fresh wound.

But Raiga hadn't made it a few steps from where she had been crouching when suddenly, something smooth wrapped around her neck. She gagged as she was instantly yanked back, her feet lifting off the ground from the amount of power behind whatever was pulling her back. Then she was thrown to the ground into the sunlight and into the waters at the edge of the pond, the dagger falling free from her grip. Raiga grabbed at whatever had wrapped around her neck and attempted to pry it off. But her struggles only served to cause it to squeeze tighter around her neck, choking her.

Then, a long, drawn out hissing and high-toned masculine voice spoke, "Ssssssoooo, you've been watching meeeeee." Raiga looked up to see the serpentine creature standing up, its slender snake head angled downwards so that it could look at her directly in the eye. The creature took two steps towards Raiga and pulled her closer towards it with its long tail, which was what was wrapped around her neck. "Very few have ever ventured thisssss far into theeese woodsss, esssspecially your kind." The snake-like creature stopped and bent down, balancing itself on the balls of its powerful lion-like feet. It rested its forearms on top of its thighs and clasped its hands together, waiting for Raiga's response.

Raiga was surprised by the shear power in the creatures tail. She was surprised more so by its ability to even speak. Being this close now to the creature, Raiga could see just how closely its head resembled a snake, much like the corn snakes she had occasionally seen in the woodland forests of The Spine.

"What bringssss an Urgal heeeere?" the creature asked, its unblinking snake eyes staring down at her.

But Raiga remained silent, unable to understand its words. Instead, she contemplated her situation, thinking of how she might possibly get herself out of it. But she could not think of any means of escaping without getting herself killed. _Is this how it's going to happen?_ Raiga thought to herself as her life flashed before her eyes. _Am I going to die at the hands of some unknown creature?_

"Not the converssssational type, are weeeee?" the creature asked. "No matter. Your kind issssn't very bright to begin with. You brutessss wouldn't entertain a wereserpent like mysssself in a conversssation anyway."

Though Raiga was not familiar with the human language, which the creature spoke fluently, she was sure that the word 'wereserpent' was what the creature called itself. She knew from listening to Nar Garzhvog speak with humans that the word 'serpent' was another word for snake. But what a wereserpent was, Raiga had no idea. She'd heard about werecat's before, but nothing like the predator that crouched over her now.

Raiga began to struggle again, not so much out of fear, but more so out of the urge to continue to live. _No! I will not die here!_ she thought to herself angrily as the fear in her heart was replaced with renewed courage. She thought about Criiztak and how alone he would be if she were to die there, _I won't die in a dark place such as this at the hands of this drajl!_ She released her hold on the wereserpents tail and swung her fists up at the wereserpents head. But the wereserpent simply avoided her attacks by arching its long neck upwards and pulling its head back.

The wereserpent let out a soft hissing-like laugh, "Ahhhh, I seeee the fear has left you. You are a brave ssssoul indeeeed, for very few have found the courage to fight back against a wereserpent." It squeezed its tail tighter, causing Raiga to pry at the powerful tail once more, "But it's uselesssss. I am the predator and you are the prey."

The words predator and prey were familiar to her ears, as her Nar Garzhvog had used it many time when speaking with a dragon whom he called Firetongue. Raiga let out a choked snarl and spit up at the wereserpent. Her spit hit its mark on the top of the wereserpents head, giving Raiga a bit of satisfaction.

This caused the wereserpent to constrict its tail even tighter and hiss angrily, "You've got gutssss kid, I'll give you that. But your life issss at its end!" With that, the wereserpent suddenly struck its head forward with its jaws wide open, its two large upper fangs gleaming with saliva in the sunlight.

At the same time, Raiga also struck at the wereserpent with her right hand, the hand with the gedwëy ignasia. She felt something well up inside of her, some kind of unfamiliar energy the likes of which she had never felt before.

Her hand met the tip of the wereserpents snout. She shouted, "Ghalvuq!" which meant 'away' in her language.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue light, followed by a soft bang. At the same time the wereserpents tail released its hold on her neck and the beast was sent flying back into the air. The wereserpent let out a surprised spitting noise as it was sent backwards about ten meters through the air, its body impacting the trunk of a large tree with a strong thump that Raiga could hear.

The strange energy that Raiga had felt moments before faded no sooner had she uttered the word, and she began to feel drained of energy again. As she coughed and gasped for breath, she glanced down at her right palm. The strange silvery mark that had appeared when she first touched Criiztak was glowing slightly.

Then her thoughts returned to the dangerous predator before her again, which lay sprawled out beneath the trunk of the tree it had hit. Without another thought, Raiga sprang to her feet, causing pain to shoot up through her right leg again. But she ignored the pain as she stooped down to pick up her dagger, and charged towards the wereserpent.

As the wereserpent rolled over onto its belly and placed its hands on the ground to pick itself up, Raiga bellowed as she leaped up into the air over the beast, her dagger held high above her head in both hands. The wereserpent barely had time to turn its head to look up before Raiga came down on top of it with the dagger, sinking the full length of the blade into the beast's skull. The wereserpents head was pinned to the ground, as the blade had gone out the soft underside of its lower jaw and sunk into the ground.

Raiga scrambled over the wereserpent and straddled its slender neck with her knees on the ground as she put all of her upper body weight onto the black gem pommel of the dagger.

The wereserpent hissed loudly as it began to thrash about. It reached up with its clawed hands, scratching at Raiga's arms as it tried to pull her off its neck. Blood ran down from the scratches on Raiga's arms and ribcage, and soaked into the ground beneath her and the wereserpent. Its clawed feet dug into the ground as it attempted to stand up and its tail whipped and flailed about wildly.

"I don't know what you are," Raiga shouted in her language, "but I am the predator and you are my prey today, drajl!" With that, Raiga took a firm grip of the daggers hilt and twisted it clockwise with all her might.

Upon twisting the blade, the wereserpent immediately stopped moving. Only its tail continued to twitch wildly.

Raiga leaned forward until her mouth was level with the wereserpents unblinking left eye. Her long black hair fell forward over her eyes as she spoke in a hushed voice to the wereserpent, "Even the hunter may become the hunted." Pushing back on the pommel of the dagger, Raiga leaned back up as a long drawn out dying hiss escaped from the wereserpent. Blood began to ooze out from between its jaws. Then, its body went limp and collapsed back onto the ground. The only part of it still moving was its twitching tail. But that did not concern Raiga, for she knew that a snake's tail will continue to move, even after it was dead.

Raiga sighed, relieved that her harrowing experience was finally over. With a grunt, she wrenched the dagger from the wereserpents skull, wiping the blood from the black dagger onto the side of the wereserpents head.

"I still have much to live for," she said to the dead beast as she thought of Criiztak, "and no amount of monsters will ever stop me from moving forward. I will cut down every single monster that dares stand in my way…and you're just the first of many." Raiga slammed her black dagger back into its sheath as she stood up. Pain shot up through her right leg once more, but Raiga shrugged it off as she looked towards the pond, her eyes falling upon the corpse of the hare on the opposite bank.

ͼͽ

Raiga stumbled over an uplifted root as she made her way towards the edge of the woods. She could see the outside world; a single sliver of light and parched grassland framed by the black shadows of two trees. The open grasslands through the trees was a relieving sight for Raiga. Never had she been happier to see open land and sky.

The rabbit swayed side to side at Raiga's hip, where she had tied its hind legs to the leather belt around her waist. Behind her, Raiga dragged the heavy corpse of the wereserpent by the tail. Despite her smaller size compared to the wereserpent, Raiga dragged the dead beast over the tree roots with relative ease thanks to her strength. As she dragged it over the root she had stumbled over, the wereserpents head slid limply over the root and hit the ground with a "thunk".

As she emerged into the sunlight, Raiga squinted as the intense light blinded her. She released her hold of the tail with her left hand to bring it up and shield her eyes from the intense light. She pulled with all her might and dragged the whole corpse of the wereserpent into the sunlight.

Still shielding her eyes from the sunlight, Raiga glanced over her left shoulder, but only saw the vast open grasslands. Glancing to her right, she saw more open grasslands. Criiztak was no where to be seen. Worry gripped her, but Raiga remained as calm as she could.

_Perhaps he has moved somewhere else,_ Raiga thought to herself as she searched for Criiztak's mind. She happened to chance a glance upwards upon feeling his mind. But just as she was going to ask him where he was, a dark object fell directly in front of her with a sickening thump, causing Raiga to jump back.

Looking down at the object at her feet, Raiga instantly recognized it as one of the same monsters she had slain only a little while before. It was another wereserpent, only this one was much more stockier than the one she killed and of a brown-tan color.

The brown beast stirred, shifting its narrow and slender head to look at Raiga. It feebly reached out a clawed hand towards Raiga. But its arm and head dropped back down to the ground as it let out an abrupt sighing hiss as its life began fading from its crumpled form.

Raiga looked up in time to see Criiztak descending down in a soft incline from a low hanging cloud. Raiga smiled when she saw him heading towards her, but the smile was short-lived. Criiztak was twisting and turning in the air, turning his head this way and that as he roared in anger. She saw something she did not want to see.

Criiztak landed and trotted a few yards before coming to a halt. A wereserpent clung to his back, clawing at his sides with its hands and digging its hind claws in between his scales and into his hide, causing Criiztak to roar and hiss angrily with pain. Another wereserpent clung from the neck spikes on the back of his neck just halfway between his head and his shoulders. It kicked out its lower legs, trying to dig its hind claws into his throat.

Raiga released her hold on the dead wereserpents tail and set off into a full on charge towards Criiztak, pulling the dagger out of its sheath. Pain shot up through her right leg with each step, but she did not register the pain, as she was only focused on one thing; helping Criiztak.

Criiztak hissed in pain and pure rage as the wereserpent on his back dug its hind claws further into his hide. He then tucked his wings tightly against his sides as he fell over onto his side. For a moment, Raiga feared the worst that the damage the wereserpents had inflicted on him was far worse than what she could see. But that soon went away when he rolled all the way onto his back, crushing the wereserpent under his weight.

However, this gave the wereserpent clinging to his neck the opportunity to latch its hind claws to his throat. As he rolled back onto his feet, Criiztak looked down, intending to snap his jaws shut on the annoying creature. Instead, the wereserpent used its powerful legs to climb up his neck, grab the horn on the right side of his head and up onto his head. As it hoisted itself up, the wereserpent swiped upwards at Criiztak's right eye with its free hand.

He barely had enough time to close his eye as the wereserpents inch and a half long claws found their mark. The claws traveled up from his lip at a diagonal angle towards his horn, leaving behind four thin parallel wounds that began above his upper lip, ran over his eye and ended about two or three inches above his eye.

Although Criiztak managed to close his eye in time, he let out a cry of pain as blood began to ooze from the new wounds. The wereserpent let out a satisfied hiss as it perched up on top of his head, holding onto his horns to keep itself from being thrown off.

Raiga reached her mind out to Criiztak, but she could only feel his blind rage and hatred of the annoying and nimble creature that was easily inflicting wounds on him. Still, Raiga called out to him with her mind, _Criiztak! I come! Lower your head!_

She hoped that he had heard her, even in his rage. She was only a few yards away when Criiztak lowered his head down closer to the ground.

Raiga closed the few yards between them and leaped up the right side of Criiztak's head.

The wereserpent was so focused on priding itself in the fact that it had subdued something far larger than itself that by the time it noticed Raiga, it was already too late.

Raiga thrust the dagger upwards with all her might, and the blade slipped up through the soft flesh of the wereserpents lower jaw, with two inches of the blade emerging from the top of its skull. As Raiga passed over Criiztak's head, she pulled with what little remaining strength she had left on the dagger, and the wereserpents body followed after her.

As her feet hit the ground, Raiga crouched forward, and brought the wereserpent over her shoulder, slamming it head first into the ground. The wereserpents body followed afterwards, hitting the ground and sprawling out in front of Raiga, its tail pointing out in the direction she faced. Raiga quickly stood up, and in a split second had lifted up her left leg and stomped down on the gem pummel of the dagger, sinking the entire dagger through the wereserpents skull.

"That's what you get for harming Criiztak, drajl!" Raiga snarled angrily. She lifted her foot and brought it down forcefully again on the wereserpents lower jaw, crushing its entire skull. Again, she lifted her foot up and brought it down upon the wereserpents under jaw. And then she stopped, huffing heavily as she realized that this wasn't her rage that she was using; Criiztak's rage had bled into her mind, over powering her senses and blinding her.

All the while Criiztak had been watching, surprised not by the fact that Raiga had been able to dispatch the wereserpent, but by the fact that she still had all this raw strength left in her. In all his time he had been with her, he'd never known her to possess such incredible amounts of strength. It was as if she alone had the strength of a thousand Urgals.

Still huffing heavily, Raiga spoke directly to Criiztak, "What happened, Criiztak? Are you alright"

Criiztak blinked, arched his neck upward and brought his head closer to Raiga, _I believe I should be asking you that question, Raiga. You're severely injured._

Raiga grunted as she kicked the now dead wereserpents head to one side to expose the handle of her dagger, which was covered with gore and blood and buried up to the hilt in the ground. She crouched down and pulled the dagger free from the ground, "I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle." She stood up and turned to face Criiztak. Her stern gaze softened upon seeing the worry in Criiztak's eyes, and stepped over to his right eye. Blood still trickled from the fresh parallel wounds. "What happened here?" she asked as she gently placed her hand above the wounds, causing Criiztak's closed eye to wince.

_They emerged from the forest as I rested,_ Criiztak replied. _The surprised me by jumping on my back, trying to bite me. But their long teeth only broke on my scales. I took to the air to try to shake them off but-_

He was cut short when a loud hissing shriek erupted from the woods. Raiga spun around, her dagger ready. But fear gripped her when she saw what emerged from the darkness of the woods.

At least twenty or thirty wereserpents charged at them on all fours.

"They don't just hunt in packs," Raiga said as she realized something upon seeing the hoard of wereserpents, "they hunt as a whole community!"

_Quickly!_ Criiztak said. _On my back!_

Raiga was already halfway in the saddle by the time Criiztak finished his sentence. As she finished securing the last straps around her thighs, and Criiztak unfurled his wings, she pointed down to the dead wereserpent, "Take this thing! We may have need of it!"

_Why?_ Criiztak said as he hesitated to pick up the snake-like creature.

"Just take it!" Raiga bellowed.

Criiztak obeyed and wrapped his claws around the limp wereserpents waist, then leaped into the air.

However, a slim wereserpent that had pulled ahead of the rest of the hoard leaped up after Criiztak, reaching up with its hands outstretched. By some chance, the wereserpent managed to grasp onto one of the claws of Criiztak's right hind foot. Criiztak growled in anger, arching his neck downwards to look back and see the wereserpent clambering up his leg.

Criiztak kicked out his leg as he climbed higher into the air to try and shake off the bothersome creature. But the wereserpent had already managed to clamber up onto Criiztak's back. Suddenly, Criiztak was struck with fear as he realized what the wereserpents goal was.

_Raiga!_ Criiztak exclaimed as he lifted his head up to see the wereserpent quickly making its way towards Raiga, _Behind you!_

As Raiga spun around in the saddle, the wereserpent hissed as it lashed out at her with a clawed hand. Its claws easily sliced through the soft skin of her left ear and cheek, leaving four deep and parallel wounds that immediately began gushing blood.

Raiga cursed loudly as she quickly turned her head away for a moment upon feeling the claws rip through her flesh. This gave the wereserpent the opportunity to pounce on top of her, digging its claws into her shoulders. But Raiga wasn't about to let the wereserpent do anything else besides digging its claws into her. She growled as she reached up over her head and wrapped both hands tightly around the wereserpents neck, just behind its head as it was opening its jaws to bite down on her throat.

With her hands secured firmly around the slim wereserpents neck, Raiga heaved the beast over her left shoulder, intending to toss it down towards the ground. But the wereserpent caught a hold of her left wrist, pulling her downwards as it dangled in the air. The only thing keeping Raiga in the saddle was her thigh straps; she would have fallen to her death had she not secured those in the brief moment she had. Raiga growled in anger again and clenched her right hand into a fist.

The wereserpent snapped up at her, but Raiga's fist met the side of its jaws. Dazed for a moment, the wereserpent recovered snapped up at her, but was again greeted with her fist. Criiztak turned his head around and snarled just before he opened his jaws and let loose a jet of blue-gray flames upon the wereserpent. Raiga gasped in surprise and shielded her face from the heat with her right arm. It was the first time she'd seen Criiztak breath fire.

The wereserpent let out a shrill cry of pain as it was enveloped by Criiztak's fire. Raiga could feel the wereserpent struggling about as it hissed and screamed in pain. When the jet of flames died, so did the hissing and shrill screaming. Raiga lowered her right arm and look down at the now limp wereserpent, still firmly clinging to her left wrist as it dangled in the air.

The wereserpents entire body was charred and black, having been roasted by the extreme heat of Criiztak's fire. As Criiztak continued to ascend, pieces of the beasts burnt flesh fell away with each downward flap of Criiztak's wings.

Slowly, the wereserpent lifted its head up to look at Raiga…but it no longer had any eyes to gaze up at her with. Its jaws slowly parted as it let out a feeble hiss.

Raiga clenched her teeth in disgust and anger. "Drajl!" she exclaimed, feeling the strange energy she felt before surge through her body, down her right arm and into the palm of her hand. She shot her right hand downwards and opened her palm to expose the gedwëy ignasia as she shouted, "Ghalvuq!"

A flash of blue light lit up beneath Raiga. She felt a jolt as the wereserpent was knocked downwards forcefully by whatever force Raiga had somehow summoned. Raiga sat back upright in the saddle as she watched the wereserpent fall back down towards the earth. She looked passed the falling wereserpent down towards the hoard of wereserpents on the ground.

They had all stopped. All of their heads were pointed upwards towards the sky, their eyes following Criiztak as he quickly grew smaller and smaller in the sky with each flap of his wings. They'd failed the hunt.

Raiga turned back around in the saddle to face forward again. She reached her left hand up and touched her left ear, which had been ripped open by one of the wereserpents claws. She moved her hand over to her left cheek and traced the four parallel wounds with her index finger; the wounds were very deep. Raiga cursed as she looked at the amount of blood on her hand, but at the same time she smiled. _Now I can proudly bear the scars of a true warrior,_ she said to Criiztak, who was gingerly licking at the lower parts of the four cuts the wereserpent had inflicted upon him.

Criiztak turned his head to look back at Raiga with his left eye. He saw the left side of her face covered with the blood as it ran from the wounds and dripped down her neck, staining her tunic. Even her arms were covered with blood from the cuts the first wereserpent had inflicted on her, as well as the sides of her ribcage. Where there should have been skin on much of her upper body, even where her tunic had been ripped, all Criiztak saw was blood and exposed flesh. Even though Criiztak knew Raiga was a strong warrior for her age, he expressed his concern for her well-being, _We must find someplace safe and tend to your wounds._

Raiga shook her head, _Do not worry yourself with me. We must press onwards._

_But Raiga,_ Criiztak said as he swung his head back to look ahead of him, _we do not know how far or where this place that is attracting your attention is. You are losing blood as we speak!_

Raiga touched the parallel slashes on her cheek again, _Criiztak, my well-being is not important right now. We have to reach Oestaerya! There is something more important there. I am sure there will be people there to help us once we arrive there._

Criiztak moaned to express his disagreement, but he obliged nonetheless, _Very well. Then let us not waste any more time. I shall fly as fast and as far as my wings will carry me._ With that, he pumped his wings harder, propelling himself through the air faster than he'd ever flown before.

Raiga leaned forward as she felt Criiztak lurch forward with his renewed vigor. She felt the intensity of the wind blowing against her pick up with each flap of his wings. The blood leaking from her wounds sprayed back in the air the moment it oozed out of her veins and onto her skin. _Try not to overdo it,_ she said.

Criiztak glanced back at her for a moment, _As you said yourself, little huntress. Do not worry yourself with me._

Raiga smiled at him as he looked ahead of him once more. She was grateful that Criiztak had chosen her instead of the dozens of other young Urgals who had lined up in front of his egg to see if he would hatch for them. She was forever grateful that she had Criiztak, forever grateful that she was his Rider.

ͼͽ

_Raiga!_ Criiztak exclaimed as he snapped his head around to look back at Raiga, who sat slumped forward in the saddle, _Raiga! Stay with me!_ He touched her mind, relieved that he could still feel her consciousness, but it was quickly fading as she slowly drifted asleep. Criiztak roared as he turned his head back around, panic beginning to set in, _Stay with me Raiga! Don't you dare die on me now!_

He pumped his already tired wings even harder and faster. It was already night, but the night was still young as the moon had only risen above the horizon an hour earlier. He was exhausted and his wings burned like they'd never burned before. It felt as if his wings would fall off at any moment. Strands of saliva that hung from his lower jaw were whipped back from the force of the wind as he increased his efforts to get to the village Raiga had told him about. He panted heavily, utterly exhausted from this endeavor to get to a village that neither of them had ever known about or heard of.

Criiztak snarled, angry with himself that he had listened to Raiga. He was angry that she had been stubborn and refused to land so that she may tend to her wounds. Raiga had not been aware of it, but the intense wind and cold temperature of the air had prevented her blood from clotting, causing her to lose a lot more blood than either of them thought.

_I will not let you die!_ Criiztak exclaimed again, looking back at Raiga. _You're supposed to be the stubborn one! You have to fight, Raiga! Fight!_ He roared once more, this time much louder, causing Raiga to flinch.

Joy flowed through Criiztak when he saw her lift her head to look up at him. Her naturally pale skin was much paler than it was when they left the hoard of wereserpents at the edge of the woods.

_Stay awake Raiga!_ said Criiztak, _Stay awake! We're almost there!_

He touched her mind again. She was utterly confused, _Criiztak? Where are we going?_ she asked.

Criiztak turned his head back around, _We're almost there, little huntress! Just stay awake!_

Criiztak snapped his jaws closed as he inhaled deeply. He had just caught the scent of wood smoke. He turned his head right, then left as he sniffed the air. He dipped his left wing downwards slightly and followed the scent as it grew stronger. Soon, there was a multitude of scents being carried by the night breeze to his nostrils; sheep, horse, cattle, human and another scent which he was unfamiliar with.

Upon seeing lights emerge from behind a small cliff or hill in the distance, Criiztak renewed his vigorous flapping. He let out a roar of joy, utterly happy to see some kind of civilization after three days of exhausting travel.

_Raiga!_ he shouted. _Wake up Raiga! We're here! We've made it! Wake up little huntress!_

Criiztak quickly glanced back again and growled. He set his eyes upon the lights again. Raiga had slumped forward again and he could feel her slowly losing consciousness.

Suddenly, Criiztak almost stopped flapping as his heart skipped a beat when he heard the distinct roar…of a dragon. He then realized that was what the unfamiliar scent belonged to; another dragon. The roar had come from the direction of the village, which he could clearly see the houses of now as he got ever closer and closer.

Criiztak couldn't contain his utter joy after hearing the responding roar of another dragon. He roared again in response. He opened his mind as he joyfully exclaimed, _We're here! We're here!_

The first thing he saw was a large pile of rocks just outside of the village, at the base of a large cliff. He tilted his body to the left to glide passed the large pile of rocks, and landed heavily just outside the fence of a small hut at the very edge of the village. He let his wing tips drag over the lush grass as he took a few steps forward before collapsing to the ground.

Criiztak panted heavily as his head hit the ground beneath him with a thud, each hoarse breath he inhaled pulling at the blades of grass in front of his nostrils. He was ecstatic that they had finally reached their destination, yet very exhausted. He could no longer feel his wings, as they had gone numb from excessive use. He'd never been so relieved in his life to see civilization, even if it may not have been an Urgal settlement.

_We're here,_ he said, _we're here…Raiga._

Then, his fatigue and exhaustion finally took over, and his mind slowly drifted off into darkness.

ͼͽ

Strange voices surrounded Raiga. She was very tired, so tired she felt like she could sleep for an eternity. She just wanted to sleep and never wake up. But something within her told her to stay awake; something told her not to sleep.

Slowly, her clouded mind began to clear slightly. She slowly opened her eyes, the voices around her gradually growing louder and louder. She couldn't understand what the voices were saying, but she recognized the language they were using; the human language. _Did we make it?_ she thought to herself.

Something brushed her mind, causing Raiga to flinch from the feeling. She opened her eyes wider when she felt hands undoing the straps of her saddle, but she couldn't see anything through her blurry vision.

She heard a woman say something about Raiga being an Urgal, and then the same woman began speaking in the Urgal tongue, "Don't worry young one. You're safe now."

"She's lost a lot of blood," Raiga heard a very elegant female voice say. The woman's voice sounded like the soothing noise of a babbling brook in a forest.

"Get her to your house, Baldor," a nearby man's voice commanded as Raiga felt hands pull her down from the saddle. Raiga closed her eyes as she felt another set of hands on her back as she was passed from one person to another.

"What in the world is that?" yet another male voice exclaimed.

Raiga tried to keep her eyes open, tried to keep her mind from clouding up again, but she was very tired. She could no longer stay awake. The last thing she remembered was hearing a man's heavy breathing above her and the sound of feet running on gravel.

ͼͽ

When Raiga came too again, she was looking up at a high wooden ceiling, with beams running from one end of ceiling to the other. An elk horn chandelier with lit candles hung suspended above her, lighting up much of the slanted ceiling. She blinked as her vision blurred for a few moments before it cleared again. She was light-headed, and she could feel the effects of dizziness whenever she moved her eyes.

She slowly turned her head to see a woman with long curly brown hair sitting in a chair directly in front of her, speaking to someone Raiga could not see. The woman was also rummaging through a bag which was slung over her left shoulder, pulling out various herbs and powders and placing them on the surface of the table which Raiga lay on.

"…sure she would refuse to have her wounds healed either way," Raiga heard the woman say.

"Aye," said a man's voice, "Urgals do not like having their wounds healed instantly, Baldor. They prefer to wear their scars with pride."

"I would imagine that it would be the same for her dragon as well," the woman sitting in front of Raiga said. "Though, I'm not quite sure if my medicinal herbs will do anything for his wounds. At least whatever attacked him didn't take his eye out."

"You think that…creature the dragon was carrying had anything to do with both their injuries?" asked another man's voice.

The woman shrugged, "I cannot say. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before."

"But you've seen a lot of things none of us have," said the other man. "Don't tell me this is the first time you've never seen a creature such as that."

The woman glanced up, looking at whoever stood on the opposite side of the table across from her, "Baldor, there are many things within this world that I myself have never seen before." She returned her attention back to the bag as she pulled out a small wooden bowl and placed it on the table in front of Raiga. "This just so happens to be one of those things. There are many places in this world where a great number of strange creatures can lurk and hide."

Suddenly, a very large cat appeared above Raiga's head, peering down at her curiously. The woman looked up a second later, "You're right, she is awake." The woman leaned forward and spoke in the Urgal tongue, "Don't be afraid young one. I'm here to help you. What is your name?"

Raiga felt the table shift and creak as someone leaned on the table somewhere on her left side. She stared at the woman for a few seconds. She did not understand why, but the woman looked strangely familiar. She looked up at the large cat, and suddenly she remembered the story-teller and her werecat friend. It was the herbalist that had visited her village a few weeks before Criiztak had hatched. It was Angela.

Raiga smiled weakly, "It's me, Raiga."

Angela's face lit up, "Oh my. Raiga!" Angela moved closer to the table and dipped her finger into the small wooden bowl, which was filled with some sort of white cream. "I would have never guessed you would become the first Urgal Rider," Angela said as she reached forward to apply the cream to Raiga's face.

But Raiga caught Angela by the wrist, "Where is Criiztak?"

"That's your dragons name?" Angela asked and Raiga responded with a nod of her head. Angela glanced up as a door opened somewhere on Raiga's left and someone with heavy footsteps walked in. She returned her eyes to Raiga again, "He's alive, do not worry. He just needs a long rest." Raiga released her hold on Angela, relieved to hear that Criiztak was alive and well. "I imagine you two traveled for a very long time," Angela said as she applied the cream to Raiga's left cheek and ear.

The slight tingling and burning pain Raiga felt from her wounds suddenly disappeared no sooner had the cream been applied. She felt a cooling sensation as the strange substance began working on sealing her wounds. Raiga closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing coolness of the cream as it worked.

"How is she?" said a very deep and powerful male voice in the human language. The voice alone made Raiga cringe as the words it spoke traveled through the room. Never had Raiga encountered a voice much more powerful than that of her own father.

"She just came to," answered one of the men on Raiga's left.

"She cannot speak our language," Angela added as she gingerly applied more of the cooling cream to Raiga's face. Angela shook her head, "She's lucky to be alive. Any child would have surely died from wounds like these." Angela used the pinky finger of the hand she was using to apply the cream to Raiga's wounds to brush a lock of hair away from her right eye. Then she briefly glanced up, "She lost a lot of blood, so it'll be a few days before she's in any shape to move around again."

A sigh of relief came from the individual with the deep voice, "The important thing is that she has survived her ordeal." There were heavy footsteps again, this time with the sound of claws scratching against the wooden floor. Raiga could hear the heavy footsteps move around the table until they stopped on Angela's right.

"You think that creature the dragon brought did this to them?" the second man's voice asked again.

"Not that creature alone," the deep voice replied, "but yes. They were attacked by wereserpents."

Angela's finger froze on Raiga's cheek upon the mention of the word wereserpent.

"You okay Angela?" the second man asked.

"You know what a wereserpent is?" the first man asked.

Raiga opened her eyes to see that some color had drained from Angela's face. Angela shook her head, "No. I've never heard of a wereserpent." She shook her head again as she resumed dabbing her finger on Raiga's cheek, "But the name 'wereserpent' alone is…a bit unsettling." After covering Raiga's facial wounds with a decent amount of cream, Angela went to work spreading a cloth over the left side of Raiga's face and then wrapping another cloth around her head. "Like I said before, there's a lot of places in this world where creatures like this 'wereserpent' can hide in."

"What about you Ŝtanin?" the second man asked. "You ever hear of a wereserpent?"

Raiga glanced down upon seeing something move in her field of vision. It was a man's arm, only it was covered entirely with scales, "No. The creature outside is one of these wereserpents…but I've never seen nor heard of them until today."

"Then how do you know that's what attacked them?" the first man asked.

Raiga's eyes began to feel heavy again as Angela finished wrapping the cloth around her head.

The deep voice answered, but it sounded much further away than before, "I felt her mind just before she…" Raiga's mind clouded over after her eyes closed, and she let the coolness of Angela's cream slowly soothe her into a deep sleep.

Ä

End Chapter 6

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with _load_)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>********Raiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree<br>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane  
><strong>**********Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)<strong>****

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the **Drëkøn name for R'zac****)  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: wind<br>**krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
><strong>**Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.**

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>Argetlam: Silverhand<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>edwëy ignasia: shining palm<strong>

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	7. A Universal Prophecy

**10/10/12 Alright everyone! Sorry to make you all wait so long for this chapter. Lots of stuff going on in terms of classes and all that. So some of you were probably wondering what the whole deal was with the prophecy of the prehistoric dragons. Well, this chapter explains the prophecy in great detail. Not a lot of action going on in this chapter, just a thorough detailing of the prophecy. And Arya confronts Ŝtanin to learn more about her purpose in the prophecy. She'll learn that she was chosen to preserve something far larger than the world of Alagaësia, and she'll soon be feeling what same immense weight of responsibility that rests on Ŝtanin's shoulders on her own shoulders. Because this prophecy stretches far beyond the reaches of the world of Alagaësia. But the weight of responsibility won't be the only thing Arya will be feeling, because the infinite size of this new responsibility is enough to frighten any elf, even Arya.**

* * *

><p>824/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

A Universal Prophecy

Three days had passed since the young Urgal Raiga and her dragon Criiztak had landed outside of Oestaerya. Angela had taken to caring for the unconscious Urgal during that time, while Fírnen took on the responsibility of watching over the resting young dragon.

Meanwhile, Jeod and Hölgeron busied themselves with studying the creature that Criiztak had brought, the creature that Ŝtanin had called a wereserpent. Both of them were thoroughly intrigued by the serpentine creature. Neither of them had ever seen such a creature, and Jeod had proposed that it was likely an entirely new species of snake.

Despite his interest in the creature as well, Roran had to make sure that the village was safe from another attack. He spent his three days setting up tight schedules for patrols around the perimeter, evacuation plans in case another attack did happen, as well as a team of men who volunteered to defend Oestaerya with their lives. Roran needed to be absolutely sure that his people would be prepared if an attack was inevitable…and if other dragons began falling out of the sky again.

While Roran occupied himself with patrol schedules, Arya took the time to explore the ancient tomb of the Drëkøn. The tomb was quite an extensive network of narrow and wide corridors extending deep underground. The walls of each corridor had the glowing runes of the Drëkøn language engraved on them, telling of the history of the Drëkøn. There were grand galleries as well, much like the one where they had met Ŝtanin. Arya had spent her three days within the tomb, exploring as much as she could yet she was sure she had not explored even a fourth of the tomb. Arya was sure that the tomb extended far beneath the surface of the earth, perhaps for miles.

Within each of the grand galleries, there were more and more of the solid crystal crypts in the walls lit up by the runes on the inner walls of each individual hollow. All the crypts contained the long dead people of the Drëkøn.

Arya had seen many dead individuals before, strewn across many battlefields in tangled masses of bloodied limbs and burned corpses…but being around the perfectly preserved bodies of the ancient Drëkøn made Arya feel small and insignificant. From what Ŝtanin had already said, she knew that the Drëkøn could live for many thousands of years, just like the ancient dragons from which they descended. She felt vastly young compared to some of the older looking Drëkøn within the tomb. She could only imagine what one Drëkøn would have seen in their lifetime.

As she walked among the ancient dead back towards the entrance of the tomb, Arya felt as if she were a part of their history. She knew that she was one of The Four that Ŝtanin had mentioned. The more she looked at the expressionless faces of each deceased Drëkøn she walked by, her sense of purpose only grew stronger. There were not just elderly and young adult Drëkøn buried within this tomb. There were also children, some of which she assumed were no older than a few years of age.

She found herself back in the initial chamber where she and the others had met Ŝtanin for the first time. The blue light from the Nïdhwal egg in the water rippled on the ceiling of the gallery. _Not one of these people died peacefully,_ Arya thought to herself as she made her way up the stairs towards the entrance of the tomb. _None of them had any chance of defending themselves, not even the children…what kind of monster would go as far as snuffing out an entire civilization?_ She grimaced in disgust as the thought of children having their lives extinguished in an instant crossed her mind.

Upon exiting the tomb, Arya stood in the doorway and looked out over the peaceful landscape of the village of Oestaerya and the forest surrounding it. The early evening sky was a brilliant red and pink hue as the sun began slowly climbing down towards the horizon. She wondered what it had looked like when the Drëkøn still walked the earth. Turning around and bending down to lower her foot on the first step of the ladder, she swiftly climbed down it and jumped down off the fifth step. She bent her knees slightly as she landed, the gravel beneath her feet crunching upon impact.

Standing up straight, Arya glanced in the direction of Roran's home and reached her mind out. She felt Roran's mind first; his mind was clouded with fatigue and frustration as he concentrated on rescheduling the patrols yet again. Then she felt Katrina's mind, whom Arya sensed was busying herself in the kitchen with preparations for the last meal of the day, while Ismira was sound asleep with Zophia.

As she reached her mind out across the rest of Oestaerya, Arya sensed from every mind she touched that life had returned somewhat to normal. There was a sense of loss from each individual Arya brushed minds with. The events from the previous few days weighed heavily upon everyone. Arya realized then that the events from five and a half years ago had brought all of the villagers closer together. All of the villagers shared an emotional bond with one another and the deaths of the victims from the attack affected every person.

Arya started down the crude path cleared out among the rocks. _They are all one large family,_ Arya thought to herself as she made her way out of the jumble of rocks. She jumped down several feet from a large boulder down to the rest of the rudimentary path. Straightening up, Arya followed the path out of the rock pile, _I can't even imagine what Ŝtanin must have felt after his people were killed off._

She stopped and turned to look back up towards the cliff. The inside of the tunnel opening in the cliff-face was pitch black in the dying light of the sunset. As the sun peaked out through a hole in a cloud, a ray of bright yellow light illuminated the surface of the cliff, bringing it out of the shadows. The rock seemed to radiate its own yellow light as it was bathed in sunlight.

Arya glanced up towards the top of the cliff-face as something caught her eye. A lone figure stood at the very top of the cliff, their feet right at the edge of the cliff and their arms crossed over their chest.

It was Ŝtanin.

The sunlight reflected off of the Drëkøn's scales, causing them to reflect and wink with different hues and tints of green light.

_The last of his kind,_ Arya thought to herself as she admired the sight of the lone Drëkøn, _He must be carrying a great burden upon his shoulders. It's difficult to imagine that a being such as the one he described had enough power to annihilate such a magnificent and powerful race._ She thought back to what Ŝtanin had said how his people had been snuffed out by a single thought in the blink of an eye.

A breeze rolled by Arya, shifting the folds of her frilled and elongated sleeves. Then the darkness rolled back across the cliff side as the sun disappeared back behind the clouds and the shine from Ŝtanin's scales faded with the light.

Arya needed to know more about Ŝtanin's people. She had to know more about the prophecy of the ancient dragons, the monster Ŝtanin had unwittingly unleashed upon the world and Arya's destiny. She needed to be sure that she knew everything there was to know before she ventured forth into the unknown.

ͼͽ

The sky had turned black by the time Arya had reached the top of the cliff. Faint stars winked in and out of the blackness while the moon shone brightly in the night sky, illuminating Arya's surroundings with its silvery glow. The beveled and sharp edges of the white greatsword on Ŝtanin's back seemed to radiate with the light from the moon where its rays hit the blade. Arya's feet made no sound as she lightly made her way over the rocky ground. A cloud rolled by and passed in front of the moon, sending the landscape and the ground before Arya's feet into darkness.

As Arya silently approached the Drëkøn, Ŝtanin's tail flicked to one side. Then, he spoke, "I've always admired the elves. They could move stealthily through dense terrain without making a single noise. They were built to be the perfect assassins."

Arya lightly stepped over a fallen branch as she drew closer to Ŝtanin, "They 'were'?"

Ŝtanin let out a soft sigh, "It seems evolution works differently for every species." Ŝtanin turned his head to look over his left shoulder at Arya as she approached and stopped to stand by his left side, "During my time if you'd been sneaking up on me then, I would not have heard you at all. Back then, elves moved in complete silence upon their feet." Ŝtanin looked back out across the forested landscape around Oestaerya.

Arya joined him in gazing out on the landscape. She hadn't taken the time to enjoy a sight such as this since she had taken up the title of Queen of the Elves. The moon cast its silvery light upon the land as it slowly peeked out from behind the cloud.

"It is still the same earth I left behind," Ŝtanin said after a few minutes, breaking the silence between them, "but so much about it has changed in that short amount of time. My people are all but a long forgotten and faded memory…but it seems appropriate the elves, humans and dwarves are the ones to inherit the earth."

Arya glanced sideways at the Drëkøn, "I imagine that it must look very different as well."

Ŝtanin nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off the landscape, "It's just as beautiful as I knew it to be…but it's not as lush as it once was. Where Oestaerya stands now was once the shallows of an ancient and shallow tropical lake. And this cliff we stand on now used to be one of the many islands that protruded from its pristine waters."

A picture of a massive blue lake appeared in Arya's mind. She could see the different blue colors in the waters that indicated the varying depths of the shallow blue waters and a brilliant lagoon sat in the shallows beneath the cliff she stood upon. Where there had been mountains in the distance directly to the west of Oestaerya, there were a chain of islands. Further off in the distance Arya saw what appeared to be very large birds floating on the air currents. Though, as she studied the large birds she saw that they weren't birds, but that they were dragons. That's when Arya realized what she was looking at; a picture from Ŝtanin's memory.

"This was once also a breeding ground for the freshwater Nïdhwal," Ŝtanin said as the picture faded from Arya's mind. "It was on the southern shores of that lake the early Drëkøn established a port city two hundred and fifty-five thousand years ago and bonded with the Nïdhwal. It was the most prosperous trade center of my people. For ten thousand years the Nïdhwal helped with trading and transportation of goods…until they began to die off from a mysterious disease.

"When the last freshwater Nïdhwal in this lake passed, the legendary trade center of Gřøl soon followed. In a few years, it had been reduced to a ghost city." Ŝtanin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled, "But that is not what you came here to listen to. You wish to know more about the people of my time…more about me, correct?" The Drëkøn turned his head to look down at Arya.

Turning to face him, Arya looked up Ŝtanin. Her eyes fell upon the three parallel scars on the left side of Ŝtanin's face. In the moonlight, his scars appeared to be much deeper than what Arya remembered. The shadows cast by the high slopes of the wounds helped to define his injury much more than the sunlight had. Whatever had happened to him, Arya knew that it must have been just as severe as the two injuries on his chest. A mirror image of the silvery moon reflected in Ŝtanin's left eye, making it seem as if his entire left eye were glowing white.

"I need to know more," she stated as she looked up at the Drëkøn with determination, "about the prophecy. I need to know more about who you were, whatever this beast you call It is…I need to know everything there is to know. I cannot be walking a path destiny has put before me that is obscured from my sight. There must be something more you can tell me that will help me to better understand my true purpose in this prophecy."

Ŝtanin's tail flicked as he pondered in silence for a moment. "Was not what Vrínjäø showed you enough?"

Arya nodded her head hesitantly, "Only just. But what she showed me does not make much sense. It is all a jumble of vague images and phrases. I do not even know what the prophecy is foretelling and how I fit into it."

Ŝtanin looked back out across the landscape. Arya studied the Drëkøn's expressionless muzzle, trying to get some sense of his emotions or perhaps his personality. But she could not see any sign of what his personality was like, or any emotions. He was silent for several minutes before he spoke, "The prophecy of the ancient dragons foretells that some two thousand years from now, the cosmos shall be torn apart and destroyed. It came into our realm through the window I opened…and it will stop at nothing from freeing its brethren from the same realm."

"How may that put our world in jeopardy? And if it's two thousand years from now, why the worry now?" asked Arya. Despite her desire to learn more from the Drëkøn, Arya refrained from letting her great curiosity and drive for knowledge to take over and cause her to ask too many questions.

"For the very reason It's kind was meant to reside within the realm whence It came from," Ŝtanin answered in a serious tone. "It's presence alone, just one of It's kind, in our realm is enough to upset the balance of existence. And it's time to prepare now because the prophecy foretells that The Wielder shall fight It with two other warriors, one from the past and one from the future."

Arya furrowed her eyebrows, thoroughly confused as she tried to comprehend what Ŝtanin was telling her. What stumped her the most was that he was not just concerned about Alagaësia or the world alone, but he was also concerned about something much greater. "What do you mean 'upset the balance of existence'? And you keep referring to 'our realm'…what is 'our realm'?"

"As intellectually advanced the elves are," Ŝtanin said with a trace of disappointment in his deep voice, "they are thousands upon thousands of years behind in considering that there is much more beyond the stars they have studied so closely." The Drëkøn turned his right eye upon her without moving his head, "Our world…this planet, is only one small blue rock among an unknown number of other planets that orbit stars just like our sun. I'm sure you're familiar with that much already." Arya responded with a slow nod of her head.

Ŝtanin looked up to gaze at the twinkling stars in the black night sky, "That band of stars you can see on some nights is called a galaxy…our galaxy." Arya glanced up towards the night sky as well, "Our sun is only one of billions, if not trillions of other stars that reside within our galaxy." Ŝtanin blinked as his eyes scanned the night sky, one star at a time. "However, our galaxy is just one. Any one of those faint stars above us now could possible be another galaxy like ours. And beyond the reaches of our ocean of stars, there is likely an infinite number of galaxies like ours."

Ŝtanin angled his back downwards to look out over Oestaerya. The windows of a few of the houses and cottages glowed orange from the lit fires in the hearths and candles as well. Arya was still listening intently as she gazed at the stars, "Every galaxy is surrounded by vast reaches of empty space where there is nothing. All of the galaxies, the space between each galaxy, all of the stars, clouds of dust and gases and all of the planets, everything…it all resides within one thing; the universe."

"Universe," Arya repeated the word silently. The word felt strange on her lips as it rolled off her tongue; it made her feel small, as if she were only a single grain of sand in the Hadarac Desert. The word alone seemed to carry some kind of immense greatness upon its vowels, and Arya could not explain why.

"Yes," Ŝtanin said, "the universe…our universe. This may be a difficult concept for you to understand, but we are part of this infinitely large universe. We all share a connection to our universe because we are tied to it." Again, Ŝtanin angled his head up towards the night sky. The stars and the moon reflected in his right eye like a stainless mirror that reflected no depth of field. "Everything within our universe serves a purpose; the galaxies, the stars, the planets…us. Even the smallest particle of dust serves a purpose in our universe. We were born into this universe."

"And how does this tie in to the prophecy?" Arya asked as she began to somewhat comprehend the gargantuan meaning of what Ŝtanin was explaining to her. Her confusion was slowly fading as well.

"Everything that exists within our universe," Ŝtanin replied, his eyes still turned up towards the stars, "everything that ever existed in our universe, it all serves the same purpose. It holds our universe together. We exist, the ground beneath our feet, everything exists to keep the universe from falling apart."

The Drëkøn closed his eyes and turned to face Arya and so did she. Opening his eyes, he looked Arya directly in the eyes and his voice grew stern, "Our very existence alone keeps the balance of existence stable. If but one grain of sand were to be removed from our universe, it would no longer exist within our universe and therefore the balance of existence will be upset. The effects of this unbalance will be incomprehensibly minute that it would take an indefinite amount of time before our universe will fall apart."

Suddenly, Arya finally understood what Ŝtanin was explaining. It all fell together before her like a huge puzzle, "Since that grain of sand no longer exists within our universe, it cannot fulfill its purpose of holding the universe together."

Ŝtanin smiled and nodded, "Precisely."

"However," Arya continued, "since nothing may be missing from our universe at this moment the balance of existence is stable, correct?" Ŝtanin continued to smile, indicating that Arya was on the right track with her understanding of the prophecy. "That brings us back to the prophecy of the ancient dragons, to the monster that killed your race. It was not born in our universe." Arya took a step back and looked out over Oestaerya as she reached up her right hand to rub her forehead, "Now I understand what you meant by 'It's presence alone is enough to upset the balance of existence.'"

Ŝtanin nodded again with approval, "Now you see what the prophecy foretells and the great size of this threat we face. It cannot reside within our universe because It was not born in it. It's existence has nothing to fulfill in our universe and it serves no purpose. Think of the universe as a scale." He held up both hands on either side of him with his palms up, "When the weight in the dishes on both sides of the scale is equal, it is balanced and therefore stable. But if just a minute amount of weight were added to one side…" He lowered one hand and raised the other.

"The scale tips where the weight is heaviest," Arya concluded Ŝtanin's statement. A breeze rolled in, ruffling the leaves of the trees behind them on the cliff. Lowering her hand to her side again, she experienced something she thought she as an elf would never experience; fright. But her fright vanished as quickly as it came.

"And since It has added more weight by existing in our universe…"

"Our universe cannot support It's existence since It serves no purpose within our universe and it will eventually fall apart." It all made sense to her now; Vrínjäø's knowledge, the prophecy, Arya's destiny…her purpose was clear to her now. Only a few minutes ago, Arya had thought she had been chosen to protect the world of Alagaësia from a powerful threat.

However, what Ŝtanin had told her changed her perception of her own destiny. There was much more at stake than she had previously thought; protecting Alagaësia from chaos was not even comparable to the infinitely grand scale of preventing the very fabric of the universe from collapsing. Suddenly, Arya felt as if a monstrous responsibility had been place upon her shoulders now that she knew what exactly it was that she was destined to do.

Ŝtanin breathed deeply and exhaled, smiling as he did, "It's good to know that there are sharp minds among the elves, despite being thousands of years behind my people." He reached up and gently touched the gem protruding from his chest, "You do remind me Raën. She was intellectually superior to myself and any other Drëkøn I've ever known. I'm sure you two would have become great friends if you could have met her."

Turning his gaze back towards Oestaerya, the smile faded from Ŝtanin's face, "If only I had not been so naïve…"

Finally, the Drëkøn revealed a hint of his personality to Arya; he pitied himself and resorted to constantly reminding himself of his past actions. It seemed to Arya that was his way of self-punishment. "Ŝtanin-elda," she said, "do not beat yourself over that. You could not have known what would happen with each different decision you made or could have made in the past. Fate may be obscured from us all, but we all can change our fates. You only need make the right decision."

Ŝtanin remained silent, contemplating Arya's words as he continued to gently touch the gem in his chest. After a few minutes of silence, he turned his gaze back out over Oestaerya and spoke, "Your words are true, Arya. I only wish that I could believe your words about being able to change our fates. I thought I saw my future when I gazed into another universe. Yet I learned the hard way that was not true when my entire race was killed with a single thought."

"Another universe," Arya repeated. "Is that what you meant by 'peering into another realm of living'?"

Ŝtanin nodded in response, "Some of the most brilliant minds of my people believed that there are other universes like ours. Not many of our people believed them, but they never faltered from their beliefs. These other universes are similar to ours, albeit with slight differences. Although these universes exist parallel to ours and perhaps even within the same space as ours, we cannot see them, cannot contact them nor can we even put precise locations to each ones. There is an invisible boundary separating our universe from others, a boundary called 'space-time'.

"This invisible boundary obscures other universes from our eyes and our senses," Ŝtanin continued. "Not only that, but this boundary cannot be broken." He smirked, "I proved that idea wrong, and I was the first of any creature on this planet to gaze upon another universe."

"What did you see?" Arya asked, utterly intrigued by this new concept of other universes.

Ŝtanin closed his eyes and Arya got the sense that the memory somehow troubled him. He lifted his right hand up, the gedwëy ignasia glowing in his palm as the moonlight struck it, "I may show you, if you'd like."

Arya glanced down at Ŝtanin's hand. She lifted her left hand up to place it in the Drëkøn's palm, but she hesitated. She wasn't quite sure why she was hesitant, but her hand hovered above the Drëkøn's palm for a few seconds. Perhaps it was fear that held her back. Arya's curiosity, however, was stronger than whatever had held her back and she placed her hand in Ŝtanin's palm. Her hand was much smaller than the Drëkøn's, despite him having only four fingers. The smooth and leathery reptilian skin of his palm was very warm on Arya's skin.

His clawed and scaly fingers carefully closed around Arya's hand. She could feel the immense strength in his powerful grip, but despite that strength he held her hand as if he were holding a fragile egg.

"Close your eyes," Ŝtanin said, "and empty your mind."

Arya did as she was told. She cleared her mind of everything; thoughts, emotions, memories. She even closed her mind off to everyone except Fírnen and Ŝtanin. With her mind emptied and isolated, Arya waited patiently for Ŝtanin to tell her what to do next.

But Ŝtanin said nothing further. Arya had not long to wait, however, before it felt as if the ground disappeared beneath her feet and she was free-falling. But she kept her eyes shut despite the feeling of her stomach jumping up into her throat. Seconds passed by, and the feeling of falling continued.

ͼͽ

Then, her feet were back on solid ground once more. A slight hot wind had picked up, and birds sang their songs somewhere off in the distance behind her. Arya could feel the heat of the midday summer sun beating down on her neck. She heard the rolling boom of thunder as well, but it was very distant.

Confused as to why she suddenly felt searing heat on the back of her neck in the middle of the night, Arya opened her eyes. She no longer stood on the cliff overlooking Oestaerya in Palancar Valley. Instead, she stood alone in tall grass at the top of a rounded hill. All around her was the same landscape of subtle rolling hills and waving tall grasses. Looking behind her, Arya found herself at the base of a small mountain ridge covered by green foliage and colorful wild flowers.

Then the smell of lush vegetation and mountain flowers filled her lungs as it drifted towards her on the currents of a cold breeze blowing down from the mountain. Arya even caught the distinct scent of wild roses among the many other floral scents.

Glancing down towards the very base of the mountain ridge, Arya saw a great circular stone construction that was raised above the tall grasses by several steps. The construction appeared to be ancient, far more ancient than any ruin she had ever seen.

Arya estimated the construction to be nearly several hundred yards in diameter. Great stone pillars stood around the perimeter of the ruin, standing just above the steps leading up to the main floor of the construction. Most of the pillars were worn and weathered, while some had toppled over both outside the ruin and inwards onto the main floor. Spanning across the space between each pillar were great stone blocks, their ends sitting atop the pillars.

Without even realizing it, Arya had walked half the distance from where she stood on the small hill to the ancient construction.

Much taller columns on the inside rose up above the pillars and also arranged in a circle around the center. A walkway rested atop the blocks on top of the first columns and gradually sloped upwards to wrap around the outer faces of even taller stone columns. Glancing further upwards, Arya saw the walkway rise up perhaps a few hundred feet above the floor of the construction as it wrapped around several more circular arrangements of stone columns. At the very top, a single large column rose above the others with the walkway leveling out and encircling the column.

On top of that stone column, a great sphere floated. The surface of the sphere, which Arya estimated to be somewhere around a hundred or so feet in diameter, was very much like a mirror. As she gazed up at the great sphere, she saw that its mirror-like surface seemed to ripple gently, almost like a placid lake that had the surface of its waters gently stirred by a breeze. Not only that, Arya felt a tremendous amount of magic radiating from the sphere. It radiated so much magic that it caused a slight pressure behind her eyes to start throbbing and her ears to pop as she drew nearer to the ancient construction.

As she closed the distance between her and the ancient ruin, there was a sudden rush of wind behind her, the loud flapping of wings and then the ground suddenly shook. Arya glanced behind her. Her eyes widened upon seeing a massive white dragon a hundred or so yards behind her. The dragon was absolutely monstrous in size, perhaps just as large as or even larger than Shruikan.

The monstrous white dragon was a magnificent sight; sunlight glinted off of its beautiful and gleaming white scales. The dragon moved gracefully as it approached Arya in only two steps. She craned her neck up just to look at the dragons head since it loomed high above her own head. The dragon stopped a little ways away from her, and then it lowered its head down to gaze down at her with its huge ice blue left eye.

A hand covered in scales suddenly appeared on Arya's left as it lifted up to gently touch the scales below the dragons eye. Stepping to her right, Arya looked to see that it was Ŝtanin, albeit much younger. The young Ŝtanin looked exactly like his older self, but almost no scars marking his head and face. His horns were much sharper and his scales seemed to have a bit more rich color to them. He still had the two large scars across his chest and abdomen.

The younger Drëkøn smiled, and the huge white dragon's eye closed as a great hum filled and vibrated the air.

"She was not just my dragon," Ŝtanin's voice suddenly spoke from behind Arya. Ŝtanin appeared at Arya's right side, gazing up at the great white dragon, "She was also my foster mother." The old Drëkøn smiled, "Though we were the same age, T'liøa hatched five months before I did. Her mother and my family were close friends, so when my mother died of illness days before I was to hatch, T'liøa made it her priority to care for my egg until I hatched. Only she felt the need to continue caring for me afterwards."

"This is the most vivid reconstruction of a memory I've ever seen," Arya said as she gazed in awe at the white dragon. The astounding detail of the environment around them, Ŝtanin's younger self and T'liøa amazed her, although she hid her amazement. A hot breeze rolled in, causing the tall grasses to sway gently and the folds of Arya's sleeves to flap slightly.

"That is because it is not a reconstruction, nor are you are seeing the memory," said Ŝtanin. "Rather, you are within the memory itself at this very moment."

"Within the memory?" Arya asked, a bit stumped by what he had meant.

Ŝtanin nodded, "I've brought your very conscience into this memory. You are seeing, hearing, feeling and even smelling everything because it has been precisely etched within my memories. This is what it means to have perfect memory; you remember everything, even the smallest of details. This…is my way of travelling back in time."

Suddenly, the air around them began vibrating as a great female voice spoke sternly yet with the softness a mother spoke with to a child, _Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin._ Arya knew she was hearing T'liøa's voice. The great dragon's voice reminded her of Saphira's voice, albeit with a mystical and musical quality to it. Her voice was like a gentle breeze in Du Weldenvarden caressing the needles of the conifers on a calm day; she had a very soothing voice. Then Arya realized that she had been able to hear T'liøa's voice not with her mind, but with her ears.

Although she had heard the words, the language they were spoken in was alien to Arya's ears. "What did she say?" she asked, glancing at Ŝtanin.

"She is upset that I did not tell her where I had gone," the Drëkøn said with a smile. "I left without saying a word to her and Raën."

The younger Ŝtanin closed his eyes and sighed as he pulled his hand away from T'liøa, "Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c."

Movement by T'liøa's great left forearm caught Arya's attention. Another Drëkøn had jumped down from the dragon's huge shoulder to the grass below. The Drëkøn landed on its feet and took a few quick steps forward before turning to face the younger Ŝtanin.

Ŝtanin shook his head and let out a sigh, "I didn't want either of them to get injured." Arya glanced at Ŝtanin and felt the Drëkøn's emotions fluctuate between happiness and dread. "But it couldn't be helped. Raën would have gotten hurt either way."

Arya was unsure of what to say as she looked back to study the other Drëkøn named Raën. She dreaded what she might see towards the end of this memory. She couldn't help but feel a sense of loss as she watched the ancient memory play before her eyes.

The shape of Raën's head was similar to that of Ŝtanin's head, but there were fewer and smaller horns adorning her head. Instead of two large horns behind her amber eyes, Raën had three horns lining the side of her head directly behind the four small spikes on her brow. The first horn was slightly larger than the spikes on her brow while the other two horns were larger than the previous, the last horn being the largest. These three horns were all angled backwards. There were much smaller horns adorning the back of her lower jaw line, smaller than the horns on Ŝtanin's jaw line. Two parallel rows of small spikes protruded from the top of her head and down her neck, stopping just above the base of her skull.

Unlike Ŝtanin's younger self, the scales covering Raën's body were a rosy brown color with a pearlescent gleam to them. The scales on her under jaw and small narrow flat chest were a lighter tan color. Also unlike Ŝtanin, whose shoulders were broad and sloped down, Raën's shoulders were much higher and more angular.

Raën was slimmer than the younger Ŝtanin and a few inches shorter than him. She was much more elegant in her posture than Ŝtanin's young self. As she approached the younger Ŝtanin, Raën's hips swayed slightly from side to side and her tail slowly curled in an S-like fashion in sync with each of her steps. She gracefully strode through the waist high grass with a purpose in her stride.

"She's…beautiful," Arya found herself saying, much to her own surprise. She was not quite sure why, but the sight of the graceful female Drëkøn left Arya with a sense of awe, much like when she had first laid eyes on Ŝtanin in the tomb of the Drëkøn. She wondered if all female Drëkøn had such a mystical quality to them that left others awestruck.

Raën stopped a few feet in front of the younger Ŝtanin and they both gazed at one another. A few minutes passed by; the only sounds that could be heard were the wind, the rolling of distant thunder and the chirping of grasshoppers.

Raën finally broke the silence with her soft and harmonious voice, which flowed elegantly from her jaws, "Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c?"

"'What makes you think we would be injured?'" Ŝtanin translated Raën's words for Arya. He let out a subtle sigh as he finished translating.

His younger self responded, speaking in the language that Arya was familiar with, "I'm going to attempt something that hasn't been done before." The young Ŝtanin placed a hand on Raën's right shoulder, "I'm not sure what will happen, as I have not used this spell before."

Arya glanced at Ŝtanin, stumped as to why she was able to understand him. Ŝtanin answered her question before she could ask it, "I've substituted my language with yours so you may follow along with our conversation."

_And you plan on using this spell on Him?_ T'liøa's stern motherly voice rumbled in the air. _What will this spell of yours do, youngling?_

Arya smiled when she heard T'liøa's name for the young Ŝtanin. It seemed to be a distinct characteristic for dragons to give names to their Rider's depending on how they viewed them.

The young Ŝtanin frowned and stepped back with his right leg to look up at the large floating mirror-like sphere, "I plan to peer into another universe." Seeing the left side of the young Ŝtanin's face now, Arya saw that the three parallel scars were not there.

The air around them shuddered as T'liøa's angry voice boomed, _Another universe? Have you lost your mind, youngling? You risk not only your life, but His own to satisfy your curiosity pursuing something that most likely does not exist?_

"Ŝtanin-jïel," Raën said with concern, "you must let go of this belief in other universes. We've only just discovered our own! How can you be certain that what the Aidoní say is true? None of them have been able to prove that there are an infinite number of universes like ours existing in the same space as ours!"

The young Ŝtanin turned and looked at Raën with a smile. "That is why I will be the first to prove them right," he said with enthusiasm. With that, he turned and began walking towards the ancient construction, with Raën following behind him. Arya and Ŝtanin followed as well.

"But how do you know this spell will work?" Raën asked with persistence. It was clear to Arya that the female Drëkøn was afraid of what might happen if the young Ŝtanin's spell were to go awry.

A thunderous growl rumbled from behind them, _Youngling, what you are going to do is bordering on insanity! I may not be one of your own, but I will not allow you to put His life at risk with an unknown spell! Even He will not allow you! The Tøvrí and the Keedärøn will be most displeased with you if they find out about this!_

"But He has already granted me permission," the young Ŝtanin stated, his frustration becoming evident. "Even He Himself is interested in the possibility of other existences parallel to our own. You both forget He was the most adventurous and curious of the three."

"Ŝtanin-jïel," Raën said as she stopped the young Ŝtanin by grabbing him by his left wrist. The young Ŝtanin turned his head to look at her with his left eye, "Please, do not put His life in jeopardy! Your passion is blinding you from seeing the consequences that could occur. If He dies, our civilization will fall into chaos! The Drogä will be nothing without Him!"

"It seems not even your own mate shared your beliefs," Arya said as she watched the Drëkøn couple.

Ŝtanin inhaled deeply and nodded his head, "Raën was not as easily convinced by superstition as I was. T'liøa as well."

The younger Ŝtanin's expression softened as he reached up with his right hand and gently touched the side of Raën's face, "Raën-jïen, I understand your fear; I understand your concern for not just me, but for Him as well…" He glanced over his right shoulder and looked up at the sphere once more, "But I cannot deny Him His request."

_His request?_ T'liøa asked as she turned her large left eye up towards the sphere. _What do you mean, 'His request'?_ She looked back down at the young Ŝtanin and her eye narrowed to a slit,_ You're not telling us the truth, are you?_

The young Ŝtanin glanced down at the swaying grasses and did not say anything, seemingly hesitant to speak the truth to them as it troubled him greatly. The corners of his lips curled downwards to form a frown.

"Ŝtanin-jïel," Raën said reaching with her left hand to turn his head towards her, "what is His request?"

Ŝtanin blinked and let out a deep sigh through his nostrils before he spoke, "My spell is designed to not only allow me to peer into another universe…but it will also provide Him with a means of escape."

_What?_ T'liøa asked in shock. _A means of escape?_

Raën blinked, her brilliant amber eyes seemed to shine in the bright sunlight, "But why? He knows He won't survive without the Artifact!"

"I know," Ŝtanin said, "I said the same thing to Him…but that is His request. And when He makes a request such as this one…I cannot ignore it."

_But does He not realize what would happen to Him if He were to leave the Artifact?_ T'liøa inquired, her worry growing.

The young Ŝtanin nodded and turned his eyes up towards T'liøa's great blue eye; her pupil seemed to glow a slight red color in the sun. "It has been over two hundred and seventy-nine thousand years since His body was merged with the Artifact…we cannot be certain that He cannot survive outside of the Artifact. We don't know if the Artifact has healed His injuries."

The young Ŝtanin glanced down at Raën and frowned again, "But even if the Artifact hasn't healed them, I must still complete His request. He desires to be free once again…" He paused as he turned he to the right to look over his shoulder towards the construction, "He is tired of being unable to die naturally, tired of being an icon of worship for the Drogä…He has faith that Drogä society can survive without Him."

_But how can you be certain of it, youngling?_ T'liøa asked, her worry seeming to fade somewhat.

Another hot breeze rolled through and over the rolling landscape. The young Ŝtanin sighed and resumed walking towards the ancient construction, with Řaën, Ŝtanin and Arya following close behind. "I cannot be certain of it…but I must believe in His words."

"Ŝtanin-elda," Arya said as she made her way through the tall grass next to the old Drëkøn, "I understand that your younger self is speaking of an ancestor…but who is He?"

"He is Seràhjön," Ŝtanin replied as they neared the ancient construction. "The first of our kind to emerge from his egg three hundred thousand years ago."

"Seràhjön?" Arya repeated as she glanced up at the floating mirror-like sphere. "What is this 'Artifact' and why has He merged with it? What happened to Him?"

They reached the ancient construction and proceeded up the steps to the stone floor. On the opposite side of the stone construction was a flight of steps leading up to the platform leading around the outer faces of all the pillars of the construction.

Ŝtanin frowned as he spoke, "Seràhjön's confrontation with His sibling…X'iřøc. No one knows what exactly sparked the conflict between the two brothers, but X'iřøc was gifted with unbelievable power."

Arya knew where this story was going, "And he misused his power, correct?"

Ŝtanin nodded his head, "During their last conflict, Seràhjön was mortally wounded. And His sibling Jäd'drë could not bear to lose Him. She searched for anything and everything that would save Him."

"That's where the 'Artifact' comes in, right?" Arya asked, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She had undone her hair braids to be more comfortable than fashionable.

"Yes," Ŝtanin answered as they crossed the floor of the ancient monument-like construction. "It was as if whatever gods there were had been listening to her prayers for a solution…for the Artifact mysteriously appeared here, at this very place. Hence, why this place is called Eldäriän, or The Place of Origin. The Artifact originated here. And Jäd'drë sang His body within the Artifact. For over two hundred and seventy-nine thousand years the Artifact kept Him alive."

"Then you come in," Arya stated as the story of the Artifact and Ŝtanin's ancestor unfolded before her.

"Precisely," Ŝtanin replied. He glanced at Arya with a slight smile, "Elves were always intellectually brilliant. Even after sixty-five hundred years they're still very sharp."

"But why does He seek to escape the Artifact if it is what keeps Him alive?" Arya inquired as she gazed above her in awe.

The shear size of the ancient monument was impressive. There were beautiful elegant glyphs and runes on the inner sides of all of the pillars, all of which emitted the same cyan blue light that Arya had seen in the tomb of the Drëkøn. Even the floor of the construction was decorated with the strange elegant glowing runes of the Drëkøn language.

In the very center of the circular floor of the construction, a large octagonal crystal rose up from the floor. The crystal seemed to be completely of natural formation; seemingly as if it had grown there. The tip of the crystal was about eye level with Arya. She noticed that on the very tip of the crystal was a single and very small point of cyan light as if the light sat on the tip, separate from the rest of the crystal. Something dripped on the crystal from above, but Arya could not see where the liquid had dripped from.

"That shall be made known to you fairly soon," Ŝtanin replied. "Seràhjön will explain Himself better than I could ever explain."

"Ŝtanin-jïel," Řaën said as they reached the steps on the opposite side of the construction, which were formed from one solid block of stone. The young Ŝtanin glanced over his left shoulder as he proceeded up the seamless stone steps. "I hope what you are going to do will not be the end of us all." With that, she proceeded up the steps behind the young Ŝtanin, with Arya and Ŝtanin on either side of her.

Ä

End Chapter 7

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAYD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>********Raiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of <strong>Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.<br>******Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac<strong>**)  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)****  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>****Drogä: drow-GAH - name **Drëkøn use when referring to their species.**  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.<br>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.  
>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>**Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<strong>  
><strong>krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
><strong>**Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - <strong>Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.<strong>**

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>Argetlam: Silverhand<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm<strong>

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	8. A Carefree Life

**10/16/12 Hey readers! So, I figured I'd move the story really quick all the way east over to Hedarth where Athgar, Flarolth and Orik are staying just before Flarolth and Athgar embark on the same journey that Eragon and Saphira embarked on 5 years earlier. This is a relatively short chapter, as I'm writing it from Athgar's perspective. It's not easy writing from the perspective of a two week old dragon. So, I ask that those who read this, to PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK, or if need be PM me your concerns! I really need advice and definitive critigue on this chapter. I need to know what's good and what's bad about this chapter, because frankly I'm not exactly fond of my use of POV in this chapter. Writing from a dragon's point of view, especially a hatchling, is not as easy as I thought it would be. So I ask a favor from you guys to give me critique where it's needed for this chapter! I'd really appreciate it if you guys, as my readers, just give me a few minutes of your time to just write what's working and what's not working in this chapter. But other than that, I hope you guys enjoy the read!**

* * *

><p>1012/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

A Carefree Life

A calm wind gently blew in from the west of Hedarth, bringing with it many scents of the night from the plains and lush grasslands in the west to Athgar's nose. He smelled the wet dampness of the freshly fallen rain; he caught a scent of wood smoke and the distinct heavy smell of mead that he had seen Flarolth and Orik-short-king downing the previous day. Also on the air currents, the scents of the strange tall-thin-pointed-ears that Athgar had seen walking the streets of the settlement for the last day. He'd never seen a sight quite like them. He'd never known there to be dwarves taller than the one's he had been traveling with for the passed two weeks.

Athgar sat on the window sill of Flarolth's room on the second floor of the house they had stayed in since they had arrived during a thunderstorm. The storm had persisted for another day, but it had died down within the last hour.

The little orange dragon extended his neck further out over the edge of the window sill, sniffing the air currents as they brought another strange scent to his nose. He had smelled it the day they had arrived, but Athgar never thought much about it until an hour ago; the scent had been an enigma for him for the last hour.

That's when Athgar heard something below him. Arching his neck and angling his head downwards, he saw the strangest creature he'd seen yet. The creature was completely covered in a brown and gray fur coat, much like the fur on Flarolth's head and Orik-short-king's face.

The werecat let out another "mrowl" as it watched Athgar with its bright yellow eyes. It sat with its paws tucked beneath its belly on the window sill of the first floor window of the house directly in front of Athgar. The large feline had its pointed triangular ears pricked forward as it stared up at Athgar with large eyes.

Athgar snorted at the werecat, but the feline only blinked. Again Athgar snorted, jumping to his feet as he did. Then he let out an abrupt hiss, challenging the creature below him to come and fight him. He unfurled his deep red wings and spread them wide to make himself look much larger.

The werecat was unfazed by his challenge and only continued to watch the orange dragon, amused.

Athgar let out a sort of soft barking growl and lifted his head up high. The creature had rejected his challenge, thus making him the victor. He prided himself in his victory over the furred creature.

Suddenly, a feminine voice spoke within Athgar's mind, causing the little dragon to flinch upon hearing it. _Enjoy your days of carefree life while it lasts, little one._ Athgar turned his head to look behind him, but Flarolth lay asleep on the bed that was too large for him with a book in his hands. There was no one else in the room.

Turning back to look down, the werecat had disappeared from the window ledge. Glancing to his left and right down the street, the werecat was no where to be seen. Athgar snorted, confused by what the words had meant. The creature had left, and thus he had become bored.

He turned and hopped off the window sill down to the night table below the window, then jumped off the night table down to the wooden floor. He flapped his wings once to break his fall, but he landed awkwardly and fell on his belly with a soft thump. Upon hitting the floor, his tail and back legs were lifted up by the forward momentum of his fall, and his lower jaw crashed into the floor as his back legs rose up and over his head. He shot his wings forward and planted them on the floor, stopping his momentum and prevented his legs from completely going over his head. The deep red tip of his tail dangled over his snout as he came to a dead stop.

Athgar pushed back on his wings and dropped his rear legs back down to the floor. Picking himself up, he shook his head from side to side to clear the stars from his vision. He looked up at Flarolth, who lay on his back with his head resting on a pillow and his mouth parted slightly, snoring loudly with each breath he took. His legs were crossed and his hands cradled the book in an upright position on his broad chest.

Athgar proceeded his way across the wooden floor of the otherwise empty room, his claws making a soft tapping as they scratched against the wood. He stopped by the small hearth within the room to bask in the warmth of the lit fire. The logs within the first popped and fizzed as water escaped from within.

The sound of an opening door caught his attention. He turned his head to look towards the door of the room, which was slightly ajar. He heard the voices of the tall-thin-pointed-ears' that had allowed Flarolth and Orik-short-king to stay in their home. Curious to see the tall-thin-pointed-ears again, Athgar padded his way over to the door.

Upon reaching it, he pushed his snout between the door and the door frame, sniffing the air as he did. Then he closed his eyes and pushed his head through. His head emerged in the hallway. Opening his eyes, Athgar cautiously glanced to his right down the dark empty short hallway, then to his left. With no one in sight, Athgar slide the rest of his neck out into the hallway, then tucked his wings against his sides as he wiggled the rest of his body through the doorway.

The wooden floor was covered by a soft rug that ran the length of the hallway, so Athgar's claws made no sound as he gingerly placed one front paw on the rug. It was firm, but strangely his claws sank into it. Placing each of his feet in a careful fashion with each step, Athgar reached the stairs within a few moments, as they were just a few feet away from the door to Flarolth's room.

Peering down the steps, the bottom floor appeared further away than Athgar remembered it to be. But Athgar was no afraid of heights, rather he was afraid of the small amount of surface of each step. He was afraid that if he lowered himself onto a step and misjudged how far he must place his front feet on the step, he would go tumbling down the stairs. He had already done it before back in Flarolth's home, on stone steps rather than wood.

However, Athgar dismissed his fear with a snort. He'd already conquered the strange furred creature he'd seen not long ago, so he could conquer anything, including his own fear. Somewhere down below, out of his sight, Athgar could hear Orik-short-king's hearty laughter.

Then, Athgar carefully reached down with his wings and rested his wing knuckles on the first step, then lowered his front feet down. He had learned from his mistake the first time, so he decided that perhaps it would make it much easier and safer to use his wings first to lower himself down. He dragged his belly and back legs over the lip of the top stair and down safely onto the first step. One step was conquered; twenty more to go.

It took him all of ten minutes to carefully make his way down to the bottom floor. The whole while he had been dragging his belly and rear legs over the carpeted steps, Athgar felt some sort of strange sensation accumulating on his scales. He breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching the hard polished stone floor. Hearing Orik-short-king's laughter again, Athgar turned to face the direction from where the dwarfs voice was coming from.

Instead of seeing Orik-short-king, Athgar was confronted with yet another furred creature, very similar to the one he'd seen earlier albeit smaller. Seeing it up close, Athgar could see much more about this creature that he hadn't seen the first time.

The head seemed to be slightly triangular, but with a structure much like those of the mountain lions that he'd seen on his way out of the Beor Mountains. Long whiskers protruded from either side of its triangular pink nose. Unlike the previous furred creature, this one's fur was a mixture of white and light orange stripes. Its eye's were a stunning blue color, and its pupils were but narrow slits as it curiously inspected Athgar.

The creature extended its head forward towards Athgar, and he could hear it as it curiously sniffed at him. He too extended his neck forward to sniff back at the creature; it smelled very different from the previous one, almost as if this creature was different from the one before.

Then the feline began purring. It sat back on it haunches as it straightened up, its head about level with Athgar's as he raised his head up high. The feline cocked its head to one side, Athgar did the same. Next the feline flicked its tail from side to side, and Athgar mimicked its movements with his own tail. It felt strange to swing the tip of his tail from side to side.

And then the feline lifted up its right paw, raising it high above Athgar's head and its own. Athgar watched with his emerald eyes as the creature seemed to hesitate, holding its padded paw above his head. Then, it gave him a playful tap on the end of his snout.

That's when he felt the discharge, heard the pop and felt the sting on his nose. The creature leaped back high above his head in the blink of an eye, and Athgar snorted upon feeling the shock. The feline landed with a slight thud on the hard surface of the polished stone a few feet away from Athgar.

He shook his head and lowered it down to paw at the strange tingling sensation on the end of his nose. All the while, the creature before him watched him with wide eyes. Its tail was raised up and nervously twitching from side to side as it stood on all fours, almost as if it were ready to run away.

Athgar, however, thought that the strange shock he'd received was the creature's way of expressing friendship. Looking up, he snorted. It was time for him to return the gesture.

He hopped forward to get closer to the creature, but it immediately let out a frightful "mrowl" as it swiftly dashed away from him. But Athgar hadn't returned the gesture, so he scurried after the creature, his claws carving scratches into the hard polished stone. His previous intention for venturing to the bottom floor had already been forgotten.

The feline disappeared around a corner, and Athgar intended to follow after it. However, strong hands wrapped around his belly in mid-hop and he was lifted up off the ground.

"Oi, little Athgar!" Orik-short-kings voice boomed above him. Athgar tilted his back to see the tangled network of the dwarfs beard, and then round rosy face. Athgar could smell the heavy scent of mead on Orik-short-kings breath.

"What are you doing down here?" Orik-short-kings voice boomed again as he lifted Athgar up and tucked him under his arm. "And why are you chasing the cat? That's a job for a dog, not a dragon." As he straightened up, Orik-short-king looked towards someone in front of him, "Sorry about that. Hatchlings, they've got carefree lives so it seems."

"Aye," said a mans voice, and Athgar saw that it was a tall-thin-pointed-ear man who stood behind a counter. "He is only a hatchling. But he'll grow into a mature dragon fairly soon enough. He'll look back upon these days and think he was just a foolish little hatchling." The tall-thin-pointed-ear man swept his long white hair over his left shoulder as he leaned forward and resumed cutting some sort of round white object on a thin slab of wood. "But it's all part of the learning process for him. Without these experiences, his carefree life will persist well into adulthood."

Athgar shifted in Orik-short-kings arm, uncomfortable by how tightly the dwarf held him. His wings hung loosely by his front feet, pushed outwards at an awkward position by the dwarfs arm and chest. Athgar squirmed, kicking his back legs up to try and catch his claws on Orik-short-king's clothes.

"Very true," Orik-short-king said as he glanced down at the squirming dragon. "Well, better get him back to his room. He'll need to rest for the journey tomorrow."

"Very well," the tall-thin-pointed-ear man replied without looking up from he was doing. "All of the supplies they'll need for the journey will be loaded on the boat by the time you awaken."

"Thank you, Veroph," Orik-short-king said as he turned and walked back towards the stairs. His boots thumped heavily as he ascended the wooden stairs.

"Quite the adventurous one you are, little Athgar," Orik-short-king said as he reached the last step. "But you need to stay with your Rider." He stepped before the door to Flarolth's room and wrapped his big hand around the door handle. He swung the door inwards, and stopped upon hearing a loud snore coming from within the room.

"Lucky for me, Flarolth is a heavy sleeper," Orik-short-king said to himself. He crossed the distance between the door and the bed in a few short steps and gently placed Athgar on the bed next to Flarolth.

The little dragon turned to gaze up at Orik-short-king with a confused look. He did not understand why he was not allowed down on the lower floor. He was unsure as to why the dwarf had brought him back into Flarolth's room.

Orik-short-king turned and left the room, making sure to close the door behind him. Athgar watched the door as he listened to the sound of the dwarf's heavy footsteps moving away from the room. Then, a door closed somewhere down the hall.

Flarolth let out a sudden quick and throaty snore, startling Athgar. The orange dragon turned his head to look at Flarolth. How he was able to sleep whilst making such noise at the same time, Athgar was unsure. The snoring didn't bother Athgar much, but it was Flarolth's occasional and sudden throaty snores that annoyed him. Still, even with Flarolth's snoring, Athgar was able to fall sound asleep.

Athgar let out a sigh as he hopped up onto Flarolth's left thigh, then gently walked up onto the dwarf's chest. He stopped just in front of the book that Flarolth cradled, turned to face the hearth and the crackling fire, and lay down on Flarolth's belly. He curled into a ball, tucking his front paws underneath him. He shuffled his wings against his sides to make himself more comfortable. He then rest his head down and curled his tail around the right side of his head.

His body rose and fell with each of Flarolth's long and drawn out snores. Athgar's mind wandered back to the first furred creature he'd seen and the mysterious feminine words that had spoken in his mind. As he pondered those words, the rhythmic motion of rising and falling of Flarolth's belly slowly lulled Athgar to sleep.

Ä

End Chapter 8

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAYD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>********Raiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of <strong>Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.<br>******Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac<strong>**)  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)****  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>****Drogä: drow-GAH - name **Drëkøn use when referring to their species.**  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.<br>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.  
>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>**Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<strong>  
><strong>krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
><strong>**Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - <strong>Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.<strong>**

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>Argetlam: Silverhand<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm<strong>

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	9. The Anomaly

**11/13/12 Alright readers! In this chapter, we move FURTHER east, back over to the new city of the Riders to check in on Eragon, Saphira and her eggs. I know some of you were disappointed that I didn't include any page time for Saphira's eggs, so in this chapter they get some page time. Not only that, but we find out just what Eragon plans on doing with the nesting chamber. And let me tell you, it's one hell of a project he faces ahead of him. But the main focus of this chapter isn't the nesting chamber. Nope. It's something far more mysterious...something beyond Eragon's level of comprehension...perhaps beyond the level of comprehension of living being in the world of Alagaesia. Hey, maybe whatever the mystery is, it's out of this world...  
>Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the read. And I would really appreciate it if you guys left me reviews! I NEED REVIEWS if I'm to make this story more enjoyable for you guys to read. "IIII NEEEEEED IIIIIT!" Reviews make me happy, just so you know. SO LEAVE DEM REVIEWS NAO! I DEMAND IT! lol<strong>

* * *

><p>1017/12

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

The Anomaly

His footsteps echoed through the long corridor leading to the chamber. Eragon pushed against the smaller door within the large heavy iron doors. The small iron door yielded, despite how heavy it was, and the cold midnight air in the corridor rushed into the nesting chamber. He quickly stepped inside and closed the iron door behind him to keep the warm air inside. His feet made no sound on the grass as he stepped inside.

_Now I see what you meant by special plan for the nest chambers,_ Glaedr's voice said within Eragon's mind. He had brought Glaedr's eldunarí with him so that the old dragon could look, through Eragon's eyes, upon the first clutch of eggs in over a hundred years.

_Aye,_ Eragon said, _I hadn't initially intended to do this, but the idea struck my fancy._

He turned to see the large nest of woven branches that Irethil and Dheker had been kind enough to construct for Saphira. Eragon wasn't quite sure where Irethil and Dheker had gotten the brown and elastic branches from, but the branches were suitable for constructing the perimeter of Saphira's nest.

Saphira's nest was set within an arched hollow in the outer stone wall of the vast nesting chamber. The ceiling was high enough for a dragon of Saphira's size to comfortably spread its wings and take to the air. The ceiling itself rose about two hundred and fifty feet up. What used to be a stone floor was now a carpet of lush grass.

Rather than having the chamber built beneath his home, Eragon had built it inside the base of the mountain. He had utilized as much of the circumference of the mountain base to hollow out a circular expanse. He left a good enough amount of rock between the outside of the mountain base and the outer wall of the chamber to prevent the mountain from collapsing.

He had also left a huge pillar of rock at the center of the chamber to support the mountain, as well as good number of smaller columns encircling the central pillar. The smaller support columns were similar to stalactites that had reached all the way from the ceiling to the ground, connecting with the stalagmites beneath them. These evenly spaced smaller columns divided the nesting chambers into an outer area, between the outer wall of the vast chamber and the columns, and an inner area, between the columns and the huge central pillar.

He hadn't worked on them yet, but Eragon intended to space nests evenly apart and separate each nest by trees on either side of the nests. At the moment however, there was only one nest; Saphira's. The hollowing out of the base of the mountain had taken nearly the five and a half years they'd been there. Eragon knew from the moment they'd arrived to the crater that the nesting chamber would be built within the mountain at the base.

He planned to make each nest identical to Saphira's nest; a large semi-circular hollow set a few feet within the stone wall, a large nest of woven branches sitting within the hollow, a layer of hay in the nest, and several trees on either side of the nest to keep each nest separate. The canopies of the trees would form a natural roof above the nesting dragon.

Eragon had many plans for the nesting chamber. One of his plans was to create large werelights that simulate the sun in everyway, from amount and intensity of light depending on the time of day, to changing hues and colors in relation to the time of the day. Another of his plans was to create weather conditions, as well as seasons. Eragon wanted to simulate the natural environment as closely as possible. Eragon's last plan was to bring wild animals and game into the nesting chamber, not just to make it as natural as possible, but also to provide a food source for the nesting dragons. But before he could introduce the animals and game, he had to recreate the environment from which they came. To do that, he had to plant stands of various trees, even plant a small forest.

Eragon was glad he decided against having Saphira's nest built in the inner area of the nesting chambers. Even Saphira seemed happy that her nest was located next to the iron doors. She was not quite used to the environment within the chambers, and found it rather easy to leave the chambers when her nest was near the doors to the chamber.

_I still marvel at its size,_ Eragon said to Glaedr as he stared in awe. _And I would not have been able to do it without your help, as well as the other eldunarí._

_Your ambitious project became our own ambitious project, Eragon,_ Glaedr responded. _But seeing now what you plan to transform it into, I'm glad that I was able to take part in its construction._ There was a pause as the old dragon seemed to ponder about something, then he spoke, _What is that strange noise?_

Eragon strained his ears, but he did not hear anything. _What noise?_

_I'm not sure, I-_ Glaedr said but stopped his sentence short. _Never mind. Let us continue. Approach her carefully._

Eragon shrugged, stepped around Cuaroc, who stood guard outside of Saphira's nest, and stepped from behind the trees that shielded Saphira's nest from the cold breezes that came through whenever the doors opened. As he passed Cuaroc, he nodded towards the metallic man with a dragons head, and Cuaroc nodded in return. His boots brushed against the blades of the lush green grass as he walked over to the nest.

Saphira poked her head out from between her neck and her wing, which she had spread open like a tent to keep her clutch of eggs warm with the heat from her body.

Eragon smiled at the sight of her head poking out from under her wing. _Well don't you just look so adorable,_ he said as he climbed over the wall of woven branches and dropped down onto the hay covered floor of the nest.

_There is nothing adorable about a mother protecting her eggs,_ Saphira responded, clouds of smoke billowing from her nostrils. _I cannot help it little one,_ she said as Eragon approached her, _I must investigate my surroundings at every little sound, even if it may be noise from outside._

_It is only natural,_ said Glaedr to Saphira.

_A mother's instinct,_ Eragon said as he stopped in front of her head. _It's only natural for you, now that you are a mother._ He smiled, almost unable to contain his happiness and he placed his right hand on her snout, _Gods. You don't know how happy I am for you._

_On the contrary,_ Saphira replied, _I do._ She hummed for a moment, then she asked, _How long has it been?_

_Six days,_ Eragon answered. _You've been asleep the whole while. You must have been exhausted afterwards._ Saphira responded by puffing out more smoke from her nostrils. _It was hard not being here with you through it all._

_It would not have been wise for you to defy Irethil's orders, little one,_ Saphira said.

_I know,_ Eragon replied with a sigh.

Several minutes of silence went by before Glaedr broke it. _Well,_ he said calmly, but it was obvious to both Eragon and Saphira that the old dragon was eager to see what was concealed beneath her wing, _out with it. How many in the clutch?_

_I assume you both wish to see them, yes?_

Eragon nodded.

Saphira withdrew her head and curled back one of her wing fingers just enough to create a space for Eragon to slide in between her thick neck and her leathery wing.

Eragon nimbly hopped up on top of her neck, careful to avoid her neck spikes, and carefully lowered himself in, his belly brushing up against her wing. He dropped down onto the dried hay below, and Saphira uncurled her wing finger, closing Eragon in.

Being in there reminded Eragon of his time within the Vault of Souls. It was very hot, but not too hot to be uncomfortable for him.

He looked down in front of him, and beheld a sight not seen in over a hundred years; a clutch of new dragon eggs.

_They're…beautiful,_ was all Eragon managed to say. He'd seen dragon eggs before, but seeing dragon eggs that had been laid not too long ago was truly a remarkable sight.

There were about twenty of them, all of them slightly larger than a goat. Each of the eggs had its own unique color, but the colors consisted mainly of light and dark shades of blue, green and turquoise. All but three were of those colors. One egg was entirely white, another was a bright golden yellow color, and the third egg was a gorgeous regimental indigo.

Of the rest of the eggs, five of them were turquoise colors, while the other twelve were an equal number of green and blue colors.

_Magnificent,_ Glaedr said in a tone that almost sounded to Eragon as if he were speechless. _It has been a very long time since the last clutch was laid. But it certainly is a relief to know that a fresh and new generation of hatchlings will soon be walking the earth._

_Not just these alone,_ said Eragon, _but also the ones from the Vault of Souls. But yes, a new generation indeed._

_If only Arya and Fírnen were here to see this,_ Saphira said.

_Do not worry Saphira,_ said Glaedr, _I'm sure that in due time, they will have found time to come visit._

Eragon knelt down and placed his hand on the warm surface of the nearest egg, the white egg. His was overjoyed and proud of Saphira becoming a mother. He reached his mind out and ever so gently brushed it against the faint consciousness within. A warm lump formed in his throat as he fought back tears of utter joy, but one managed to escape.

Saphira hummed upon seeing a single tear slide down Eragon's left cheek and falling just before reaching his lips. Eragon could feel Glaedr looking through his eyes, and he pictured the old wise dragon gazing down at the eggs with a softness in his eyes, like a grandfather would look upon his newborn grandchild. Eragon didn't move from the spot for several minutes, completely lost in the beauty of the new dragon eggs.

Then he stood up, walked around the clutch of eggs, and sat down in the hay next to Saphira's head with his back against her side.

ͼͽ

The late night hours slowly ticked away into the early morning as Eragon, Saphira and Glaedr enjoyed each others company. Glaedr told them many stories of the past, from the time when he was only a hatchling, to gazing upon the first clutch of eggs he had been the father of.

As Glaedr finished his story of when he first met Arya when she was a young elf, Saphira's words about her and Fírnen returned to Eragon's thoughts. _That reminds me,_ Eragon said as he remembered he had difficulty contacting Arya and Roran a week before, _Vanir mentioned something happening in Palancar Valley and that Arya and Fírnen had gone to investigate._

_Aye, I've been pondering about that myself,_ Glaedr responded. _The prophecy little Kaeshta strangely remembers must have something to do with that as well._

_Have you tried contacting Roran again, little one?_ Saphira asked as she shifted her head on the ground to find a more comfortable position.

Eragon shook his head, _No. But now that the subject has come back to mind, I will try to contact him again sometime today._

_Best you do it now, Eragon,_ Glaedr stated. _You will not have time later today, as you are finishing the conference hall._

_I'd almost forgotten,_ Eragon replied. He knew he had to try contacting Roran again, but he yearned to stay with Saphira and her eggs longer. He wanted to share his happiness with Saphira for just a few more hours. But he had to find out if everything was alright in Palancar Valley. He had to make sure that Roran and Arya were alright.

He placed his left hand on Saphira's side and eased himself up off the nesting hay. Eragon patted his backside down to rid his tunic and pants of any stray hay that clung to them.

_Little one,_ Saphira said, looking up at him with her huge left eye, _before you go…_

He turned to face Saphira and smiled, _Yes?_

_Something has been…bothering me since I first walked into this chamber,_ she replied.

_Bothering you?_ Eragon asked, raising an eyebrow.

_You as well?_ Glaedr asked.

_It is the strangest noise I have ever heard,_ said Saphira upon learning Glaedr heard it as well, blowing jets of smoke from her nostrils.

_Aye, that it is for me as well._

_What noise?_ Eragon asked, straining his ears to hear anything. _I don't hear anything._

_You cannot hear it?_ asked Saphira. Eragon shook his head in response. _It…it alternates between very low-pitched to very high-pitched sounds._

_And it seems to have a rhythmic pulse it,_ Glaedr added. _Three slow and low beats, like that of a bullfrog croaking its mating call, before gradually increasing in pitch and frequency with three high and quick chirps, like that of a chickadee singing its song. And then it repeats again, alternating from low to high again._

_I cannot hear a thing,_ Eragon said as he shook his head again. _Whatever it is, it must be below the level of human and elven hearing._

There was a moment of silence between the three of them. Eragon was unsure of what else to say or do in order to alleviate Saphira's discomfort. He wanted to do something for her, but he did not know what he could do.

Then Glaedr stated, _It seems Cuaroc hears it as well. This noise must be on a level of frequency that only we can hear. And-_ Glaedr stopped, and Eragon could feel that the old dragon and Cuaroc were conversing. He felt Glaedr's emotions fluctuate, changing from uncertainty to surprise. _Whatever the anomaly is, Cuaroc seems to have pinpointed its location._

_He has?_ Saphira asked, genuinely surprised.

_Let me out,_ Eragon said as he walked over to where Saphira's nearest wing finger was closest to her head. She pulled that finger back like a curtain, bringing it up against the next wing finger. As she made an opening for Eragon, the air from the outside rushed into the space under her wing and hit Eragon's face. Despite the air in the chamber being sufficiently warm, it was cool on his cheeks, having gotten used to the hotter air under Saphira's wing.

He climbed up onto her neck and stepped through the opening. No sooner had he exited, Saphira closed her wing behind him to prevent anymore cooler air from rushing in. _I'll go have a look with Cuaroc and see what this 'noise' is and if I can do anything about it._

_Thank you, little one,_ Saphira replied, and she let her gratitude wash over him like a gentle warm wave.

Eragon hopped off of Saphira's neck onto the woven branches, and then onto the grass below. He exited the nest and stopped beside Cuaroc. The metallic dragon-man turned his head towards Eragon.

"Show me," Eragon said.

With that, Cuaroc immediately set off in the direction of the center of the chamber, towards the huge central support pillar. Eragon followed closely behind.

ͼͽ

It took them almost ten minutes to reach the central support pillar.

The structure was massive, rising the full two hundred and fifty feet from the floor of the chamber to the ceiling. The base of the column was likely a half mile in diameter, at least. Eragon still marveled at how he and the eldunarí had been able to mold the column enough to be able to support the weight of the mountain above it.

Cuaroc stopped next to the column. He lifted one hand and knocked on the stone. The sound of metal gently banging reverberated throughout the chamber. But upon knocking on the stone, there was another strange sound…a hollow sound.

This puzzled Eragon. _It's hollow?_ he asked.

_So it would seem,_ Glaedr responded.

Cuaroc looked over his left shoulder back at Eragon. Though it could not be seen on his metallic muzzle, Eragon sensed that he was just as puzzled as Eragon was.

Eragon stepped beside the metal dragon-man and leaned forward, putting his left ear against the cold stone. Again, Cuaroc knocked on the stone, and this time Eragon heard the hollow sound much more clearly. With his ear still pressed against the stone, Eragon glanced up at Cuaroc. The dragon-man cocked his head to one side.

_What do you think it could be?_ he asked as he pushed away from the column. _A cave?_

_Perhaps,_ Glaedr responded. _We won't know until we mold the rock away._

_Aye,_ Eragon said with a nod of his head, _it should not take too long, it sounds rather-_

Without warning, Cuaroc took a step back, raised his right arm behind him, balled his hand into a fist, and thrust his arm forward. Upon contact, the stone shattered and Cuaroc's fist sank into the stone. The cracks in the stone formed a large perfect circle, extending about six feet in either direction from his fist. Surprised, Eragon jumped back and shielded his face with his hands to avoid having any shards of rock hitting his face.

_-close…_ Eragon said, finishing his sentence. He lowered his hands down to his sides.

Cuaroc pulled his fist free from the stone and stepped away as the rock crumbled to the grass. Eragon glanced at him, and Cuaroc shrugged.

_Well,_ Glaedr said, and Eragon sensed the old dragon found that to be quite humorous, _that's one way to create an opening. At least it involved no effort on our part._

_At least,_ Eragon replied, his surprise by Cuaroc's sudden action had already faded by then. _Still, it would have been nice for him to have warned me._ He turned his attention to the crumbling wall before him. As the stone fragments fell away from the wall and down onto the grass with soft thumps, something gradually came into view. A strange, non-natural structure became visible through the holes as more fragments fell away.

_Eragon,_ Glaedr said with disbelief, _are you seeing what I'm seeing?_

Eragon nodded his head, his jaw slightly agape as more and more of the strange structure behind the stone wall became visible. Symmetrical shapes came into view.

Cuaroc stepped forward again and pulled away some of the larger fragments of stone, flinging them aside.

As Cuaroc tossed aside the last large fragment of rock, it became apparent that the twelve foot diameter circle they were looking at was not natural.

_This is where the anomaly is coming from, alright,_ Glaedr stated. _It certainly is louder than it was before._

_But…_ Eragon began, but he could not find any words to describe it.

_It is definitely manmade,_ Glaedr responded.

_Yes but…inside the mountain?_ Eragon asked, utterly perplexed. _What is it doing this deep within a mountain? Why is it here?_

Eragon could feel that Cuaroc and Glaedr were just as confused as he was.

_Your guess is as good as ours,_ was all Glaedr could say in response.

Shallow grooves crisscrossed the whole of the flat structure, forming diamond shapes where each groove intersected another. Among the straight grooves, there were also curved lines as well, shaped like crescent moons. Every curved line began from the very edge of the frame of the circular structure, and all connected in the very center.

_Never, in all my years on this earth, have I ever seen something so…alien,_ Glaedr said, the awe in his voice evident.

Eragon shook his head in disbelief, This _seems almost…unbelievable…_

_I would have to agree with you on that,_ Glaedr agreed. Cuaroc nodded his head as well.

_What should I do?_ Eragon asked. He very much wanted to investigate the strange circular structure, but he was just as much afraid of it as he was interested in it. He realized he was breathing heavily. Whether from fear or from excitement of finding a mystery, he was not sure, but he relaxed and took a deep breath to calm himself.

_The only thing you can do,_ Glaedr replied. _Let us investigate this mystery._

Eragon put one foot forward, but hesitated. Upon his hesitation, Cuaroc put a hand on Eragon's right shoulder and stepped in front of him. The metallic dragon-man cautiously stepped closer to the structure.

Stepping closer to the structure caused nothing to happen, and so Cuaroc cautiously reached a hand out towards the flat surface. His index finger made contact with the flat surface.

Upon the touch of his finger, a strange whirring sound could be heard from somewhere within the structure. All of the grooves and lines on the structure began to glow.

In the very center of the structure, where every crescent shaped glowing line connected, a strange circular projection appeared and flickered above the surface of the structure. Just like the glowing lines and grooves on the structure, the flickering projection glowed light green. Nestled in the center of the projection was a hexagon that glowed blue rather than green.

_This is getting more and more interesting,_ Eragon stated. He was utterly enthralled by this new mystery. _I can't sense any magic._

_Neither can I,_ said Glaedr. _Perhaps it is magic that cannot be sensed so easily. But the odd thing is the…image in the center. If it were of magic, even of the Ancient language, the image would not flicker like that._

_Perhaps…it is not magic at all._

Cuaroc moved his hand from the flat surface of the structure to the flickering projection. As his metal fingers seemed to touch the blue hexagon in the center, they slid through the projection. The blue hexagon then turned orange, and a strange chirp-like sound came from the projection. Withdrawing his hand, the hexagon returned to its former blue color. Cuaroc examined his fingers before glancing over his shoulder at Eragon.

_His fingers went through it,_ Eragon observed, _as if there is nothing there._

_Why don't you give it a try?_

Eragon did not hesitate to comply with Glaedr's suggestion. He stepped forward and stopped beside Cuaroc. He lifted his right hand and reached towards the projection. But he hesitated, stopping his fingers less than an inch from the projection. _What if this is some kind of trap?_

_Eragon,_ Glaedr responded sternly, _if this were a trap for you, who in blazes would go out of their way to erect an entire mountain above it? Think lad._

The tips of Eragon's ears grew hot from embarrassment, _Right. Good point._

The blue hexagon immediately turned white upon his fingers making contact with the projection. A soft, drawn out beep responded from the projection, and the glowing crescent shaped lines all turned white as well.

Cuaroc and Eragon both stepped away from the structure cautiously.

"What's going on?" Eragon asked, but neither Cuaroc nor Glaedr could answer as their attentions were transfixed on the now moving structure.

All of the glowing green grooves in the flat surface began moving in unison. Each line turned clockwise while staying parallel with one another. Then, the intersecting grooves were no longer intersecting as soon as they ceased turning. They'd all aligned with one another, forming horizontal parallel lines on the flat surface. And then they pulsed once before phasing away, the grooves disappearing entirely from the surface of the structure.

"What kind of magic is this?" Eragon asked in awe to no one in particular.

Suddenly, the flat surface began moving, causing dust to come loose somewhere between the flat surface and the frame of the structure. A small porthole appeared in the center, gradually becoming larger. It looked similar to that of a human's iris expanding upon entering darkness. The flat surface gradually opened all the way until it disappeared within a small space somewhere within the frame of the manmade structure.

Then, all was silent.

Jaw dropped, Eragon stared into the circular room that had just opened up before his eyes. The floor of the room was slightly slanted at a downward angle. Lights along the perimeter of the floor where it met the walls flickered on and off sporadically. But what caught Eragon's eye was what was within the room.

Lights blinked on and off on the surface of the strange object in the center of the room. Some were constantly on, others blinked off while others blinked on. Some lights were blue, others were red, and others were green, while a few other lights were yellow. And just like the projection that had appeared in front of the flat surface before, all the lights hover steadily above the surface of the object.

The object itself was a strange, black metallic color, its surface reflecting the lights. Much of the object was curved and seemingly was designed to have few angles in its structure. Occasionally, soft beeps and chirps could be heard coming from the object.

"Well, I think we found the anomaly," Eragon said after a few minutes of total silence. "But I think we've just stumbled upon something beyond our levels of comprehension…"

Ä

End Chapter 9

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAYD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>********Raiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of <strong>Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.<br>******Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac<strong>**)  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)****  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>****Drogä: drow-GAH - name **Drëkøn use when referring to their species.**  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.<br>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.  
>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>**Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<strong>  
><strong>krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
><strong>**Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - <strong>Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.<strong>**

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>Argetlam: Silverhand<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm<strong>

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	10. Affliction

**11/23/12 Hey readers! I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving yesterday! While most of you were enjoying your turkey dinners last night(me as well), I was hard at work getting chapter 10 done for you guys! Spent a good portion of the day working my butt off to get this out for you guys. Finished it at 12:30am. It's not a long chapter, I was just dealing with a lot of distractions whilst writing this. But I got it done. And today I've edited it. Hopefully, this is the chapter that will hopefully help answer any lingering questions you guys have had since the IC, and since this story came out. I enjoyed writing this chapter, because I liked presenting Arya with a challenge...the challenge of being unable to control her emotions. I won't say anymore than that. You'll just have to read this chapter to find out what it all means! Enjoy the read everyone! Also, LEAVE ME DEM REVIEWS! I NEED YOUR REVIEWS! So LEAVE DEM! NAO!  
>1130/12 Viewers, readers, everyone! Please, I'm asking a favor of all of you. PLEASE LEAVE ME A REVIEW OF WHAT YOU THINK! I'm not kidding, your opinions, your viewpoints, your thoughts, your questions, your CRITIQUE is what keeps me going! It's what keeps me writing. I NEED your reviews in order to get an idea of what you guys want to see in the next chapter. Reviewing will keep this story alive people! You're keeping the story alive as well, not just me! So please, just do me the favor of taking just a minute or two out of your day to leave a comment. I've had the same problem back over on the InheritanceForums, and I was forced to cancel all updates there because of the 6 chapters posted there, only three or four reviews were given. People liked my story, but didn't bother commenting, so the story didn't survive there. Without your reviews, the story here will ultimately meet the same fate. And I don't want that to happen. So please, I'm almost begging you guys to leave me a review, and it doesn't have to be in English either! The review can be written in French, German or Chinese for all I care! Even those of you who don't have accounts here can leave reviews! All I need is just a few sentences from you guys telling me SOMETHING.**

* * *

><p>1113/12

Eldäriän

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 10<p>

Affliction

"But, if you leave from The Artifact, you will die!" Raën objected after having listened to Seràhjön's explanation for His request.

A powerful and deep masculine voice boomed in the hot air, "Do not fret over my well-being, young one. It has been my desire to leave The Artifact's protective shell for some time now."

"Raën-jïen," the younger Ŝtanin said, taking hold of Raën by her shoulders, "He may be the father of our race…but he is just as much of a Drogä as we are." He and Raën both looked up at the floating sphere, "When a fellow Drogä makes a request such as this, I cannot turn the request down."

"I am not a god, little Raën," said the voice of Seràhjön. "I never wished to be given divine status."

Raën broke away from the young Ŝtanin's hold on her shoulders, "But what do you plan to do once you are free? You cannot heal yourself! You cannot survive without The Artifact!"

Seràhjön's voice remained calm as he replied, "I plan to die peacefully, and to join my brethren in the afterlife. It has been…all that I ever wanted…to die a normal death."

A hot wind blew at the top of the ancient monument. Arya's hair whipped about, her clothes flapped in the wind, and Raën took hold of the younger Ŝtanin's arm tightly to keep from being blown off the platform.

_Wise One,_ T'liøa's motherly voice filled the air, _you have been the center of worship for the last two hundred and seventy-nine thousand years. Without you, the Drogä will be lost in this world, like a young cave-child lost in a thick fog._

"Nay," Seràhjön's voice responded. "The Drogä shall not be as lost as a young human without me. The Drogä have no need for worship in order for society to survive. Worship of me was only implemented to ensure that I was not forgotten."

_Then how shall the younglings remember you for who you were once you are gone, Wise One?_

There was a moment of silence before Seràhjön replied, "It is as young Ŝtanin has said. I am the father of the Drogä…no hatchling shall forget the name of their ancestor. My name shall persist and the legends that surround me shall forever be remembered through the tales that are spoken everyday."

"Do you not see now?" the young Ŝtanin asked, turning to Raën. "He wishes to be free of his immortality."

The young Ŝtanin's statement puzzled Arya. "Ŝtanin-elda," she said, turning to the old Drëkøn, "every living being seeks to achieve what Seràhjön possesses; immortality. Why would one who possesses such a coveted prize seek to ride Himself of it?"

"For the very reason of being unable to die," Ŝtanin replied, his eyes watching the floating metallic sphere. "It was His brother, X'irøc who sought to use his power to achieve immortality. Seràhjön had no desire for immortality."

Ŝtanin let out a long, deep sigh and closed his eyes. He opened his right eye to look down at Arya, "Let us move this memory along, shall we? There are some…moments that I am not too fond of that will happen fairly soon."

Arya nodded her head, "If it makes you uncomfortable having to relive this, Ŝtanin-elda, then I will not protest."

ͼͽ

Everything around her suddenly became blurred. The young Ŝtanin, Raën, The Artifact, even the environment and the ground beneath Arya's feet suddenly turned blurry before disappearing, leaving her and Ŝtanin floating in nothingness.

"I shall warn you," said Ŝtanin, "there is a risk being within a perfect memory."

"What sort of risk?" Arya asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ŝtanin closed his eyes and sighed, "Unlike me, this is the first time you've experienced a perfect memory. Despite your kind's notable ability of concealing your emotions, that cannot help you against the emotions that you will soon be feeling." He looked into Arya's eyes sternly, "What emotions I express in this memory, you will be unable to stop yourself from expressing them as well."

"In other words…if you express your rage at an enemy…"

"You too shall feel rage towards that enemy," Ŝtanin finished her sentence, nodding his head. "You already experienced this expression of emotion when you first laid eyes upon Raën. What you felt in that moment were my emotions, and you expressed my thoughts at the time by saying she was beautiful."

Arya thought back to when she first looked upon Ŝtanin's mate. She had been surprised when she heard herself utter those two words. She hadn't realized that it wasn't her own emotions that caused her to speak of Raën's beauty. She only thought it was Raën's mystical quality that caused her to speak about the female Drëkøn's beauty.

"You're haven't told me everything about the risk, have you?" Arya asked, tossing her windblown hair over her shoulder.

"No…I have not. What emotions you experience here, you will live with those emotions for the rest of you days on this planet."

Arya grew tense upon hearing his words, "The rest of my days? Will there be no way of removing the emotions afterwards?"

"I am uncertain," Ŝtanin replied. "But any anger I felt towards my enemy, you shall feel the same anger afterwards. You may be able to conceal the emotions like you normally do…but if anything were to trigger an emotional reaction from me, you will react the same as well and it will be difficult for you to hide those emotions."

"In essence," Arya said as she realized the risk she was taking being within a perfect memory, "I shall be just like any normal human being…emotionally speaking, yes?"

Ŝtanin nodded, "Drëkøn and humans are the same in the emotional aspect. You and I shall burden the same emotions. It will be an affliction you may or may not ever be able to rid yourself of." He paused as he glanced down at his feet, "I'm sorry, I should have told you before."

"Do not apologize, Ŝtanin-elda." The old Drëkøn lifted his gaze up to look at Arya once more.

"You are at peace with the consequences?" he asked.

Arya smiled in response, "I am at peace with shouldering your emotions, Ŝtanin-elda. You are after all my elder and you are passing down your wisdom to your pupil. If the passing on of emotions is involved as well, then I have no objections."

"Then you wish to continue with the memory?" the old Drëkøn asked after pondering for a moment. Arya nodded. Ŝtanin smiled, "I sense in you the same powerful will and confidence as Raën. Perhaps you have inherited her spirit." He frowned upon the mention of Raën's spirit, and his right hand went up to his chest, his finger gingerly touching the gem embedded in his sternum.

Arya sensed something was wrong, "Something troubles you…" Then she remembered what he had said about being afraid of T'łiøa falling into a 'null slumber.' "It was not T'łiøa's consciousness you could not feel, was it?"

Ŝtanin nodded his head and averted his gaze away from Arya, "It seems that Raën's spirit fell into a null slumber long ago, long before you were born. What I felt earlier was only a residual feeling of her spirit, left behind when her consciousness faded."

"Then…she's no longer with you…"

Ŝtanin's upper lip curled into a silent snarl for a very brief moment before he regained his composure. But that subtle movement of his upper lip had betrayed his despair over the loss of his mate to Arya.

She looked down at her feet upon seeing the grief in Ŝtanin's eyes for that fleeting moment, "I'm sorry for your loss, Ŝtanin-elda."

Ŝtanin shook his head and rested his gaze upon Arya once again, no trace of his grief visible in his eyes, "Let us not dwell on it any further."

Suddenly, a blurred environment appeared around them.

ͼͽ

They stood upon the platform at the very top of the monument once more. But the young Ŝtanin had already begun chanting the words of his spell.

Arya listened to the words of the young Ŝtanin's spell intently. At the same time, she gazed up at the floating metallic sphere in awe. But as she listened to the words of the spell, a few of the words rang familiar in her ears among the words of the Drëkøn language; words of the Ancient language.

"Ŝtanin-elda," she said, turning her head towards the older Drëkøn, "why is it that some of the words of your spell are eerily similar to words used in the Ancient language?"

Ŝtanin's tail flicked as he watched his younger self. "You're quite the observant one. I didn't think you would be able to recognize the words of the Ancient language among the words of my language." He turned his right eye to look upon Arya, "Quite a number of the words of the Ancient language…are based upon the language of my people."

"But how can that be?" Arya asked, furrowing her eyebrows. She was certain that she remembered Oromis' teachings about the Ancient language. She was sure that he had mentioned that the Grey Folk were the creators of the Ancient language. "The Ancient language was the native tongue of the Grey Folk!"

Ŝtanin smiled, "Aye, you are correct about that. However, one key fact that is unknown about the Grey Folk is where they learned to bind magic to words." Arya's eyes widened, and Ŝtanin chuckled, "Now you see why some of the words of my language are similar to the Ancient language. These, 'Grey Folk' as you call them, were among the first of my apprentices. I began teaching them after one nearly annihilated the whole of Alagaësia with a single stray thought.

"Through my teachings, the Fölterías, as they called themselves, created the magic of the Ancient language." His tail flicked once more, and he resumed watching his younger self, "Not long after Seràhjön merged with The Artifact, His sibling Jäd'drë spent years developing a technique to bound certain words to Drëkøn magic. The teachings of this technique were passed down from generation to generation of her descendants."

"And you are a descendant?" Arya asked.

Ŝtanin nodded, moving his eyes from his younger self to Raën, who held onto the younger Ŝtanin's right arm tightly, while holding her other hand up against her chest. "Aye. The knowledge of this technique was unique to my bloodline." He blinked and sighed, "I felt it a necessity to teach the Fölterías how to bind the words of their language to their magic."

A hot wind blew in, tugging vigorously on Arya's clothes. "That still does not explain why some words of the Ancient language are similar to words of your language."

Ŝtanin turned to look at Arya, "I couldn't risk having them remember who I was. Their own lives were at stake. I explained to them why, but many of them objected. They wished not to forget their master. One of them had the idea to incorporate quite a few of the magical words of my language into their language…her way of remembering me.

"She was the most eager of my apprentices to learn about my people and culture…she was the brightest of the Fölterías. She had no desire to forget who I was." Ŝtanin smiled as he averted his gaze and looked off into the distance, "So, she based quite a few of the magical words of the Ancient language on magical words of my language."

He held up one hand as he looked back at Arya, "For example, the word 'brisingr' is taken from the Drëkøn word for fire, 'brësëngar'." With that, a bright white flame sprung to life in the palm of Ŝtanin's hand. Closing his hand, the flame hissed as it was quickly extinguished. "Another example would be the word for the spell to manipulate water, 'adurna.' In my language, the word is 'àidúreni'." With that, a small sphere of water formed and floated just an inch above the palm of his hand. "Although in my language, the spell both summons and manipulates water."

"Fascinating," Arya said.

Ŝtanin released his spell and the sphere of water disappeared. He glanced at his younger self, "Other words in the Ancient language are just commonly spoken words of my language, words that have no magic bound to them. The word 'älfa,' the word for elf, is the same word in my language. And from the Drëkøn word 'argäete,' the words 'arget' and 'Argetlam' were created."

Arya closed her eyes and smiled, "I see now. If it were not for you and your teachings to the Grey Folk…the elves would have a completely different language, if not, no language at all." She opened her eyes and gazed up at Ŝtanin, "Without you, Alagaësia would not be what it is now."

"Nonsense," Ŝtanin said as he snorted, "the elves would have created their own language regardless. They were intellectually brilliant even that long ago."

"Perhaps," Arya replied, "but Alagaësia would not be the same if it were not for you. Perhaps…there would not be an Alagaësia at all if you had not taught the Grey Folk to bind magic to their words. A single stray thought may have destroyed this land if you had not intervened." Arya turned towards the younger Ŝtanin, who was still immersed in reciting the words of his complex spell. "The land of Alagaësia owes you a great deal, Ŝtanin-elda, in more ways than one."

Ŝtanin sighed, "That may be true…" He focused his attention on Raën once more, who still clung to the younger Ŝtanin and the old Drëkøn's eyes softened, "But I desire nothing in return. No debt is owed."

"…entøc ov xär!" the younger Ŝtanin exclaimed, finally finishing his spell and releasing it upon The Artifact.

The surface of The Artifact began to change upon the spells release. It changed from a mirror-like surface to a dark void. Wisps of blue light seemed to come into existence at the very center of the void and shoot out towards the edge of the dark void. As Arya stared into the dark void, she felt as if she were accelerating forward at an incredible rate of speed. She turned her stare away from the center of the void, looked at the horizon and the feeling stopped, thus assuring her that it was only a side effect her eyes caused.

Looking back, Arya saw lights shoot forward and to the edge of the void. As more and more lights zipped by her eyes, she realized she was seeing stars, actual stars. More stars flashed by, and then hundreds upon hundreds of great swirls of stars began to shoot by as well. One swirl grew so large, it filled the whole of the dark void with its dazzling lights. Looking closer, Arya thought it looked like a vast ocean of stars.

The great swirl of stars seemed to freeze upon filling the whole of the dark void. Arya gazed at the billions upon billions of brilliant blue and yellow stars in the arms of the great swirl.

"Our galaxy, seen from above," Ŝtanin said. "Albeit our galaxy in an entirely different universe."

Arya stepped closer to the dark void, completely mystified by what she saw before her. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Looking closer at the galaxy, Arya could see many multicolored clouds of what appeared to be dust; some were minute while others stretched across vast stretches of the galaxy. Most of the clouds of dust were either pink in color or a deep shade of blue. Others were green, yellow or red while others still were multiple colors.

Ŝtanin stepped beside Arya and pointed up to a single small point of yellow light within one of the galaxy's arms, close to one of the large green clouds of dust. "That would be the star system this world belongs to as well."

"Is this really-?" Arya heard Raën say, but never finished her question. Glancing over at the female Drëkøn, Arya saw the shock on her muzzle.

"It is," the younger Ŝtanin replied with a confident smile.

"How can you be so sure that it is?" Raën asked, still clutching onto the young Ŝtanin's arm tightly.

"For this very reason," the young Ŝtanin replied and waved his hand.

Suddenly, Arya had the feeling of accelerating forward at an incredible rate of speed once more as the galaxy seemed to rush at her. The very star that Ŝtanin had pointed to zoomed in. And then, Arya was looking at round spheres which she knew were planets, seemingly floating in nothingness. Much of the planets backsides were obscured in shadows, but a thin sliver of the planets were illuminated around the edges facing the star, much like a crescent moon.

"The worlds our scholars discovered centuries ago," Arya said in shock as she marveled at the sight.

Ŝtanin nodded his head, "Aye."

The largest of the planets, the closest one, had two sets of green rings encircling the entirety of it. One ring encircled the equator of the planet, while the other ring, which comprised of three smaller and parallel individual rings, was tilted at an angle. Those individual rings intersected with the larger ring, safely passing between separations within the larger ring. The large gaseous planet itself was comprised of varying bands of green colored clouds. In the blackness of the planets dark side, lights occasionally flashed. Far from the planets surface, dozens of smaller moons orbited the planet on the same planes s the rings.

"Those rings are the reason why you see a green star in the night sky on most nights," Ŝtanin said. "The way the planets axis is turned towards the star allows the ice crystals that make up the main ring to reflect the light from the star. Our ancient scholars named this planet Belothard."

"Belothard," Arya repeated the name quietly.

The planet Belothard and the other planets zipped passed until Arya was once again looking upon another planet. But there was something different about the planet that struck a familiarity with Arya.

The planet was illuminated by the light of the star, allowing Arya to see what looked to be continents surrounded by oceans. White wisps dotted the planets surface. Far above the surface of the planet, she could also see a faint dusty line encircling the planet; a single thin and near invisible ring. Then, she realized what she was looking at, "This is…our world?" She stared at the planet in total awe. It was a magnificent sight to see her home from such a height. Suddenly, although she realized before just how small and insignificant she was in the universe, Arya fully understood how small she truly was. She was much smaller than the smallest grain of sand of every desert on her world combined.

Ŝtanin nodded his head, a slight smile spreading on his muzzle, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Still marveling at the blue planet, Arya asked the old Drëkøn, "How long have your people known that our world was but one of many?"

"No one knew when we first made the discovery about our planet orbiting the sun, to be forthright," Ŝtanin replied. "Sometime after The Artifact appeared, it became known that our planet orbited the sun. Then the discoveries began to increase. First, our planet orbited the sun; then the moon orbited our planet; lastly our planet was one of nine total planets orbiting the sun." His tail flicked as he gazed at the planet within the spherical dark void before them, "A precise date of when these discoveries were made cannot be given. But my people have known about these things for close to two hundred and seventy-nine thousand years."

"And how did they come about these discoveries?"

Ŝtanin indicated towards The Artifact, "Seràhjön's senses were greatly heightened by The Artifact. His senses extend slightly beyond the orbit of the last planet. He was even able to manipulate celestial bodies as large as a dwarf planet thanks to The Artifact." Ŝtanin paused and closed his eyes before he continued, "His magic was greatly increased, thus he could manipulate anything as far as the ninth planet. It is all thanks to his heightened senses that we were able to discover the planets…and ultimately discover the universe."

"Remarkable," Seràhjön's voice said. "It is our world…but not our world."

"I…It's our world," Raën said. Her eyes glimmered and tears began forming in the corners of her eyes. "It really is our world…in another universe."

"I'm sorry, Ŝtanin-elda," Arya said, unable to understand how they were sure they were looking into another universe. She realized that she was speaking directly towards Ŝtanin's younger self. She turned to face the old Drëkøn, "But how are you able to distinguish that we are indeed looking into another universe?"

Again, Ŝtanin indicated towards The Artifact with his head, and Arya returned her focus onto the planet.

The planet suddenly expanded, and the land came rushing towards Arya. This startled Arya, and she opened her mouth to speak the word 'letta,' but the young Ŝtanin spoke first. "Léatt!" he said, and the image on The Artifact stopped.

Arya found herself looking at the young Ŝtanin and Raën's reflections. Or rather what she thought were their reflections.

"This is what my life could have been like," Ŝtanin said, his voice growing solemn as he spoke, "if I had not become a warrior and member of the Tøvrí."

Arya's eye's widened upon closer inspection of what she was looking at. The other young Ŝtanin and Raën stood within a snowy pine forest, curiously peering back at them. Upon the other young Ŝtanin's shoulders sat two Drëkøn children. The children each held onto the horns atop the other young Ŝtanin's head. One of the children had its index finger raised up to its mouth, the tip of the claw held between its lips. The other Drëkøn child had cocked its head to one side, confused by the sudden appearance of another young Ŝtanin.

Both children were identical in appearance, albeit one's scales were a bright golden color with a green sheen to them. The majority of the scales of the child on the other young Ŝtanin's right shoulder were a deep brown with the scales on it's under jaw, torso and belly being a tan color. Much like its father, the golden child on his left shoulder had its father's horns while its eyes were gold with a blue outline along the edge of its pupils. The brown child on his right shoulder also possessed its father's horns, but had eyes that were green with a brilliant amber outline around the edge of its vertical pupils.

The other young Ŝtanin held onto both children's legs to prevent them from falling off his shoulders. He stared back at his counterpart, his jaws slightly parted. Unlike his counterpart, the other young Ŝtanin had next to no scars on his body at all, aside from the two large scars on his torso.

A great blue eye appeared behind the counterparts and blinked once, looking curiously at the young Ŝtanin and Raën.

_Unbelievable,_ T'liøa's voice rumbled in the air, _I never thought it possible…another universe._

Raën's counterpart was identical to her. The only difference was her counterpart wore a beautifully crafted silver circlet adorned with four small milky blue star sapphires and one large gold star sapphire in the center of the circlet, nestled between the four smaller star sapphires.

"My…my mothers circlet," Raën gasped, placing her hand on her chest upon seeing the circlet. "She still has the circlet…ours has been lost for a thousand years!" She stared at the shining stars of each individual star sapphire.

"Fascinating," Seràhjön's voice said. "It seems that in their universe, you chose a more humble lifestyle."

Arya stared at the two Drëkøn children sitting atop the other young Ŝtanin's shoulders. She felt something roll down her cheeks, and her throat began to close up much to her surprise. She sniffed, realizing that she was shedding tears. Whether they were tears of joy, or even if they were her own tears, Arya was not sure. It was only after she heard a sniff next to her and she glanced up at Ŝtanin's younger self that she remembered the old Drëkøn's words about the risk of being within a perfect memory. Ŝtanin's younger self was shedding tears as well.

The young Ŝtanin opened his jaws to speak, but he could only utter two choked up words, "They're…beautiful."

Beside him, Raën's eyes were shimmering as she shed tears as well.

Raën's counterpart took a step closer, but Ŝtanin's counterpart seemed to disagree with her decision. Her counterpart quickly glanced over her shoulder back at her mate before returning her focus on Raën.

Ever so cautiously, Raën's counterpart placed her right hand on the surface of the sphere. Raën followed her example, releasing her hold on Ŝtanin's arm and placing her right hand over her counterpart's palm.

Suddenly, both Raën and her counterpart's eyes widened. Both of them stared at one another for several seconds before they both simultaneously drew their hands back. Looking down at her palm, Raën opened and closed her hand several times.

The young Ŝtanin glanced at Raën as he brushed his tears away with a claw, "What is it, Raën-jïen?"

From the corner of her eye, Arya could see that the young Ŝtanin's counterpart had also glanced at his own mate. Both Raën and her counterpart looked up at their mates at exactly the same moment. "Her life…" Raën said as she struggled to find words, "Her life flashed before my eyes." She turned her head and locked eyes with her counterpart, "We've exchanged our memories with one another." Raën's counterpart smiled, and Raën smiled back in return.

_Is that wise?_ T'liøa said, the air vibrating with her caring voice. _What if you had lost yourself to her memories?_

"It is alright, T'liøa-sovà," Raën replied. "I am still myself. I do not see any harm in it."

The urge to place her hand on The Artifact suddenly came over Arya. Much against her own will, she took a step closer to The Artifact. She raised her hand up to place it on the surface of the sphere, but Ŝtanin's younger self managed to place his right hand on The Artifact before she did. His counterpart released his hold with his right hand on his child's legs and placed his hand over the young Ŝtanin's hand as well.

Arya's eye's widened as both young Ŝtanin's eyes widened as well. She felt a flurry of emotions; emotions she hadn't felt since she was a child and emotions she had never felt before. Then she saw images flash by her eyes; the counterparts memories of his days as a hatchling, his bonding with T'liøa, his near death experience after a ravenous dragon had attacked him, meeting Raën and the day when his two children emerged from their eggs. The golden child was a female while the brown child was a male.

"This is…the life of an individual," Arya said after she regained her composure, "from another universe."

"Now you've become the first mortal," Ŝtanin said, folding his arms over his chest, "to know what it is like to not only gaze upon another universe, but to exchange memories with your counterpart."

The young Ŝtanin left his hand resting on the surface of The Artifact as his counterpart drew his hand away.

_Well?_ T'liøa said. _What is his life like?_

His hand still on The Artifact, the young Ŝtanin replied with a shaky voice, "Mother and father died only a hundred years ago in his life…and it was not you that inflicted these wounds upon me." He closed his eyes as he chuckled, "It was the wild dragon that you managed to fend the village from."

_It was not I that inflicted the wounds upon you,_ T'lioa said as her great eye focused upon the younger Ŝtanin's counterpart, _yet the patterning of the wounds is exactly the same?_ The younger Ŝtanin's counterpart turned to look back at the great blue eye of T'liøa's counterpart. He said something that caused T'liøa's counterpart to blink once before her eye widened and stared back at T'liøa.

"It would seem that although our two universes are similar," Seràhjön's voice stated, "there are differences between our universe and theirs. Perhaps events that occurred in our universe either never occurred in theirs or played out very differently than ours. Perhaps that would explain the similarity in your scars to his."

"Perhaps," the young Ŝtanin replied. "Perhaps what happened to you, Wise One, never happened-"

Suddenly, there was a shattering noise as large glowing red cracks appeared on the surface of The Artifact where the young Ŝtanin's hand was. Raën gasped in fear, and the young Ŝtanin's eyes widened with shock, his pupil narrowing so much that it almost disappeared in the blue ocean of his left eye. Behind the glowing red cracks, Ŝtanin's counterpart backed away cautiously upon seeing the cracks.

Fear suddenly washed over Arya, and her thoughts began to race. Were the spell's effects too great for The Artifact to handle? Had he phrased the spell incorrectly and inevitably caused the destruction of The Artifact and Seràhjön Himself? Arya shook her head, recollecting herself as she pulled her own thoughts back together.

Black mist suddenly began to pour out of the cracks and from between the young Ŝtanin's fingers. The young Ŝtanin lifted his hand off The Artifact and took a step back. Arya's fear began to mount.

"Wise one," the young Ŝtanin said, his voice trembling with fear, "a-are you well?"

"I-I…" Seràhjön said, his voice sounding as if he were struggling with something. The fine glowing red cracks suddenly widened, and Seràhjön bellowed, "Run young ones! Run! Something is attempting to break through!"

But it was too late, as the glowing red cracks suddenly shattered outward. A black form shrouded in black mist sprang forth from the glowing red hole.

A sleek black hand with large double-edged claws shot out from the black mist and swung at a downward angle at the young Ŝtanin. The young Ŝtanin managed to turn his head towards the right and close his left eye, but the black claws made contact. Three of the black hands claws tore through the young Ŝtanin's scales and flesh, starting from just below his left horn, over his brow and his eyelid, and stopping just above his lip as the claws emerged from his flesh while the hand continued downwards.

Upon feeling the claws rip through his flesh, the young Ŝtanin bellowed in pain. He staggered backwards away from the misty black form as he clutched at his left eye, snarling in pain as the black form landed on the platform in a billowing black cloud.

Arya clutched her left eye as well. The pain was absolutely intense. It felt like knives that had had been heated in fire until they were red hot had shaved off a good section of skin off of her face. She fell to her knees as she clenched her teeth, trying with all her might to prevent herself from shrieking in pain. All she could see was the stone surface of the platform as she bent forward, her left hand clutching her eye while she rested her right hand on the platform.

A hand appeared on her back, and suddenly the pain vanished. Taking her hand away from her eye and looking up over her left shoulder, she saw it was Ŝtanin. She saw the pain in his eyes as well, but not the same pain that she had felt. "It hurts enough to watch myself go through the pain…it pains me even more having to watch you go through it. This is my pain, and you should not have to experience it as it was meant for me."

The young Ŝtanin looked down on the black form with his right eye as his anger began to boil. Arya felt the intense hatred towards the black beast as well as she looked up at it. Above the black creature, the glowing red hole in The Artifact began to close quickly until it had sealed shut. The young Ŝtanin and Raën's counterparts stared in horror at what they were seeing.

The black form suddenly began to take shape. Huge bat-like wings that sat upon its back began to shrink back into the black mist until they had vanished. As the black mist began to dissipate, huge gnarled horns began to emerge from its head and black scales began to appear all over the creature's body. A long, spiked tail emerged from behind, and its claws shortened slightly. Its legs began to reform, taking on the same structure and anatomy as those of a Drëkøn. The head began to elongate until the distinct shape of a dragons head was distinguishable.

And then the creature stood up.

The creature had morphed into a Drëkøn, albeit it was completely black. Opening its eyes, its iris' were completely black, while what should have been white was red.

The black Drëkøn grinned menacingly at the young Ŝtanin, exposing its many red teeth.

"Freedom, at last," it spoke in a very deep demonic voice. It sounded as if several voices varying in pitch were speaking in unison whenever the black Drëkøn spoke. "I've had just about enough of that wretched realm of mine. Ruling the Vez has become tiresome."

Gazing at the wounded young Ŝtanin, the black Drëkøn's grin widened even further, further than Arya thought it possible for a Drëkøn to grin, "And I have you to thank for releasing me from my home dimension."

**Ä**

**End Chapter 10**

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAYD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>********Raiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>àidúreni: AE-doo-ren-ee - water; summons and controls water<br>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of **Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.  
>argäete: are-GA-yet - silver<br>Belothard: name given to a gas giant planet with rings by ancient **Drëkøn scholars; name literally means 'Green Wonder.'  
><strong>brësëngar: breh-sen-gar - fire  
><strong>****Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac<strong>**)  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)****  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>****Drogä: drow-GAH - name **Drëkøn use when referring to their species.**  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.<br>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.  
>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>**Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<strong>  
><strong>krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
>Léatt: stop<br>****Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>sovà: sow-VAY - an gender-neutral honorific suffix used by <strong>Drëkøn when speaking to dragons they are familiar with, attached by a hyphen.<strong>  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - <strong>Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.<strong>**

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>älfa: elf; same word used by <strong>Drëkøn when referring to elves.<strong>  
><strong>**adurna: water  
>arget: silver<br>Argetlam: Silverhand  
>brisingr: fire<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>Fölterías: name of the Grey Folk's race.<br>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm**

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	11. Elusive Emotion

**1/18/13 Hey readers! Time for chapter 11! I know it's taken me a while to get this out to you guys, but I was occupied with Christmass and New Year's for a while. Only got a chance earlier this week to finish this chapter up for you guys. I was also working on chapters 9 and 10 of my SGU fan fic, so I feel like I've gotten quite a bit done this week. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, because it was fun introducing Arya to her new emotions. Hopefully, this will set up what I have planned for Arya and Eragon in the near future. Also, this may not be good news to everyone, but this just may be my last update until the summer. I've loaded on classes for this semester, so I'll be quite busy trying to focus on getting work done, rather than sitting in class working on my fan fics. Well, I hope you guys enjoy the read!**

* * *

><p>124/12

Eldäriän

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 11<p>

Elusive Emotion

Rage clouded Arya's mind as she stared at the beast with hatred. Despite all of her best effort, she could not subdue the intense emotion she felt. The intensity of this rage she felt was alien to her, as she had never felt it in her life to this extent.

The black Drëkøn turned head to admire its new surroundings. "What a lovely world," it said in its absurdly low demonic voice as it took a deep breath. "Atmosphere consists mainly of nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide. No wonder my body began to sublimate." It raised its right hand and carefully scrutinized its new form, "Interesting physiology your species has." It turned its head to one side and licked the blood from its blood red claws with its split tongue.

The young Ŝtanin snarled angrily at the beast, "Who or what are you?! And what are you talking about?!"

The black Drëkøn closed its black and red eyes and turned its head towards the young Ŝtanin. Opening its eyes, it gave him a menacing grin, "My name is Zeryu, and I am a Veth. I am the eternal ruler of the Vez…" Its grin stretched once more, the corners of its mouth stretching almost to the base of its blood red horns, "I am known as the 'Annihilator of Realities,' and soon your universe will be just another memory like the rest of the universes I have destroyed."

Raën slowly began to edge towards the young Ŝtanin, her eyes wide with terror. The young Ŝtanin hissed and dropped his bloody left hand at his side, "I will not allow you to do such a thing! Hëhzaak wréatøv!" Suddenly, a long white flame erupted from his left hand and quickly extinguished as fast as it had jumped to life. He closed his hand around the hilt of his glowing white greatsword as it emerged from the white flames. Raën now stood close behind him. But something was different about this weapon, and Arya immediately knew why.

The weapon in the younger Ŝtanin's hand was not the same as the one Ŝtanin had on his back. The entire weapon glowed continuously with a brilliant white light, which obscured much of the weapons features. The only part of the weapon that was visible was the tip of the blade, which had a sharp angled break in the blade before the end doubled back again to form the tip. Arya could vaguely see intricate patterns etched in the surface of the blade.

"Stanin-jïel," Raën whispered, "please be careful."

The rage Arya felt began to subside to fear. Turning her focus upon the young Ŝtanin, she saw that the young Drëkøn was giving the beast an intimidating glare, but she knew that it was only to hide his fear.

Zeryu threw its head back as it parted its jaws to let out a sinister laugh. "Oh you pitiful creature," it said as it looked back at the young Drëkøn. "You think you can stop me? The Annihilator of Realities? You're missing an eye and yet you make such a bold statement. Please," it raised both arms out on either side of it, "I'm invincible!"

The young Ŝtanin let out an angry growl, "We'll just see about that! You are nothing but a shadow!" With that, he charged towards the beast.

_Ŝtanin, no!_ T'liøa exclaimed.

"Young one, don't-!" Seràhjön's voice began, but it was too late.

Zeryu chuckled, "How predictable." It raised its left arm up over its right shoulder, as if preparing to backhand the young Drëkøn.

Arya had trouble following what happened next. One moment the young Ŝtanin was charging the black Drëkøn, the next he appeared on Zeryu's left side and slashed his greatsword at an upward angle. The beast appeared surprised by the young Drëkøn's quick movement, as it attempted to step away from him. But the end of the white greatsword hacked through its left wrist, severing its hand from its arm.

Zeryu let out a brief yelp of surprise as it felt the white hot metal cut through its flesh before thrusting its right hand out towards the young Ŝtanin. Suddenly, a thunderous bang filled the air and a sudden shockwave rushed over Arya as the young Drëkøn was sent backwards into the ground onto his back. His feet rose up in an arc before falling to the ground so that he was lying on his belly.

Zeryu chuckled, "I'm truly surprised. I'll give you credit, Ŝtanin. You're the first mortal being to ever inflict any sort of injury on me." It frowned, "The last being to wound me was my partner, who lashed out at me while he gave birth to our son an eternity ago." The severed hand suddenly rose up off the surface of the platform and floated up towards the stub of the beasts arm. Arya watched as the severed hand gently floated to the arm and connected with the stub. Then the hand clenched into a fist.

"Good as new," Zeryu said with a sly smile.

The young Ŝtanin struggled to lift himself up, but his arms gave out beneath him and he fell back on his belly.

Zeryu laughed, "Don't bother getting up. I have drained you of all your strength." Then it set its black gaze upon Raën, "Such a lovely creature you are." Raën's fearful posture changed to one of defense as her upper lip curled up and she growled. "Oh, such a fierce spirit you have. Your fear has turned to courage. Very admirable. But your certain death is inevitable."

Arya felt the tips of her ears grow hot and her rage boiled once again. All the while she felt depleted of energy.

"Never before in my life had I been so afraid," Ŝtanin's voice said from behind Arya. She quickly glanced over her shoulder at the old Drëkøn, who was kneeling on one knee directly behind her, "But neither had I felt such anger." Arya then realized that Stanin's hand was still resting on her back. She hadn't felt the same urges to act out the young Ŝtanin's intentions; she assumed that contact with Ŝtanin was keeping her from charging the black Drëkøn.

She returned her focus to the young Ŝtanin, who was struggling to his feet once more. As he put his right foot underneath him to steady himself, he reached for his greatsword. Arya looked at the glowing weapon once more. Gazing into the brilliant light of the weapon seemed to fill Arya warmth. But it was the warmth of will, not the warmth of newfound energy that flowed through her.

The young Ŝtanin steadily stood on both his feet and he let out a menacing growl, "How dare you threaten her!" He glared at Zeryu and grasped the hilt of the greatsword in both hands, pointing the tip of the blade at the beast, "It is only your death that is inevitable!"

Zeryu looked curiously at the young Drëkøn with his right eye, "Interesting. Despite draining you of every ounce of energy, you still are able to stand." It turned on his toes to face the young Drëkøn.

The young Ŝtanin huffed as the corners of his mouth curled up into a feeble laugh, "That is because it does not take strength alone to stand when you are weary…all it takes…is the will to stand and keep fighting."

With that, he charged towards Zeryu once more. Again, in an instant he disappeared and reappeared between The Artifact and the beast. With a mighty roar, he swung the glowing greatsword towards the black Drëkøn. However, Zeryu was prepared for the attack. Without moving its feet, it bent its knees and bent backwards as the glowing blade sailed over its torso, narrowly missing it by a mere inch. Again, it thrust its hand out at the young Ŝtanin.

Once more, a loud bang cracked and a shockwave rolled over Arya, tossing her loose hair over her shoulders. The young Ŝtanin let out yelp of pain as he was lifted off of his feet and sent back several feet, his back hitting The Artifact. He fell once more on his belly, his greatsword falling a few feet away from him.

"So," said Zeryu as it glanced up at T'liøa with an amused look, "your loved ones are what you hold dear to your heart." It looked back at Raën, "Or perhaps it is both your loved ones and your people you hold dear. I wonder, what would happen if you were to be the only one of your kind left on this planet." It grinned menacingly.

Dread washed over Arya as she continued to watch. He could not mean to exterminate all of his kind, could he?

In an instant, both Zeryu and Raën began to move. As Zeryu raised its hand to rapidly weave signs with its fingers, Raën shouted, "Baénok!" An amber-red ward that Arya could actually see sprung up around her just as Zeryu released the spell it had woven with its fingers. The red energy that formed around its hand dissipated as the spell released.

Suddenly, Raën was swept off her feet as she was sent back through the air.

"No!" the young Ŝtanin exclaimed as he watched Raën fall beneath the edge of the platform.

T'liøa roared as she tried to catch Raën out of the air. But the falling female Drëkøn slipped between two of T'liøa's huge fingers.

T'liøa froze, her eyes fixed on the ground.

At that exact moment, Arya was unsure how or why, but she suddenly felt and heard the agonizing cries of hundreds of thousands of individuals. She instantly knew what had happened; it had snuffed out the Drëkøn species.

Zeryu laughed hysterically, "Well then, I have granted you your reward Ŝtanin. No longer do you have to worry about the safety of your species."

"No," Ŝtanin said feebly, his words choked as he began to fear the worst.

_You, monster!_ T'łiøa exclaimed as she let loose an enraged roar. A massive jet of white flames erupted from her jaws and rushed over the platform, engulfing Zeryu and The Artifact.

The white flames spewed from her jaws for quite a few moments before she snapped her jaws shut with a thunderous clack.

As the flames died off, Zeryu's figure emerged. It was completely unscathed.

"Was that supposed to do anything?" Zeryu asked with a sly smile.

With a nonchalant wave of its hand, a thunderous crack filled the air, and T'liøa's massive head snapped back as she was flung backwards by an unseen force. Her feet were lifted off the ground from the force as the rest of her body followed after her head. Her feet kicked the air and her tail flailed about as she flew through the air for several seconds. The tip of her tail crashed into one of the smaller support columns near the edge of the ruin, toppling it and several others over.

Then the ground shuddered immensely as the full weight of her body crashed into the ground. A huge cloud of dust and dirt erupted upon her back impacting the ground, obscuring her from view. Only her tail still protruded from the cloud of dust as it still flailed about.

Rage washed over Arya. Her entire face grew hot and she clenched her teeth to the point where her jaws began to hurt. Every muscle in her being ached to lash out at the beast standing no more than fifteen feet away from her.

Then she heard the most terrifying enraged roar she had ever heard. Movement to her left caught her eye. The young Ŝtanin had jumped to his feet and swept the glowing greatsword in his hands. White bolts of electricity began erupting and crackling around him as his rage grew ever hotter with each passing second.

Arya could feel the intensity of the young Ŝtanin's rage, as well as the overwhelming power of his magic as it radiated from him.

"The power of rage," she heard Ŝtanin say from behind her, "is a dangerous thing to tap into." Arya glanced back at him, and saw the serious look in his eyes, "Keep that in mind." Arya nodded and turned back to watch the dramatic events unfold. She looked at the young Drëkøn, and for a moment was struck with fear upon seeing his eyes. They had turned entirely white, and glowed as brightly as the blade of the greatsword in his hands. But the fear was quickly washed over by the rage she felt.

As Zeryu turned to face the young Ŝtanin with an evil grin, the young Drëkøn took one step forward before vanishing into thin air.

Zeryu's eyes widened in shock as it felt the white hot metal of the blade enter its flesh once more. It slowly looked down to see that half of the glowing greatsword was buried in its abdomen. Three feet of the greatsword protruded from the beasts back. It wrapped its hands around the blade as if to pull it out. Arya could see smoke billowing up from the beasts hands as the blade burned its flesh.

Zeryu snarled as it looked at the young Ŝtanin, "How did you-?" it began, but the young Drëkøn interrupted it.

"You may be the Annihilator of Realities, daecri," the young Drëkøn said angrily as he looked up at Zeryu with his glowing white eyes, "but I am the Wielder of the Blade of Time and Judgment!" His upper lip curled up into a snarl, "Daecri! Today your fate is in my hands!" With that, he forcefully wrenched the greatsword from Zeryu's abdomen, twisting it as it pulled free.

Zeryu staggered backwards, covering the wound in its abdomen with its hands. A black substance began to leak from between its fingers. It staggered back until it was in danger of stepping off of the platform. "You'll-you'll pay for this dearly, pitiful creature!"

The young Ŝtanin walked up to Zeryu, "No daecri," he said as his left hand shot out and grasped the black Drëkøn by the throat and lifted it off its feet. "You are the one who shall pay dearly for your crimes!" Zeryu clutched at the young Ŝtanin's wrist with both hands.

Arya felt the hot rage intensify even more as the young Ŝtanin curled his upper lip once more. The crackling white bolts that surrounded him grew larger and more abundant, "Daecri, you murdered my species. You cannot imagine the rage I feel. Today may be the first time you set foot on this planet, but it will also be your last!"

In an attempt to break free from the young Ŝtanin's grasp, Zeryu kicked out its feet with full force into his chest. But the blow did not phase the young Drëkøn.

With that, the young Ŝtanin raised the greatsword high above his head as he exclaimed, "As the Wielder, I banish you from this world for all eternity!" And he swung the sword downwards.

However, as the blade began to move down upon Zeryu, it released its hold on the young Drëkøn's wrist with one of its hands and rapidly wove signs with its fingers. As the greatsword drew nearer to its flesh, it released the spell it had woven and once more kicked the young Ŝtanin in the chest. This time, it broke free of his grip.

Despite breaking free, the tip of the greatsword still managed to make contact with its flesh, cutting into its left shoulder down its abdomen and finishing the infliction just above its left hip.

Zeryu howled in pain as it was sent backwards, the newly inflicted wound glowing with a brilliant white light. It stopped in midair as it arched its back and threw its head back, letting loose another roar of pain.

Suddenly, in a bright flash of white light Zeryu vanished, leaving the young Ŝtanin standing alone near the edge of the platform.

Several minutes of relative silence passed as the young Ŝtanin remained where he stood, bolts of white lightning continuing to flash and crackle around him. The whole while, Arya could feel the mix of rage and utter sadness conflicting with one another.

Then, Seràhjön's voice finally broke the silence, "You vowed to never use this power when you became a Tøvrí, young one."

The bolts suddenly vanished, and the young Drëkøn turned to face The Artifact. Sadness washed over Arya, and tears began well up in the corners of her eyes. Tears rolled down the young Ŝtanin's scales and fell to the surface of the platform.

"It had to be done, Wise One," the young Ŝtanin said with remorse. "Had I not, It would have likely destroyed you before destroying this world, and eventually this universe."

"Perhaps," Seràhjön's voice echoed, "but you still risked a great deal tapping into that power. Many before you have died doing the same thing."

"Is one life worth more than the whole of the universe, Wise One?" the young Ŝtanin replied.

Seràhjön remained silent, knowing that the young Drëkøn was right.

With that, the memory began to fade.

ͼͽ

Arya once again stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the village of Oestaerya. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared off into the distance.

Ŝtanin released his hold of Arya's hand. "Raën managed to survive Its spell," he said as he closed his eyes and sighed, "but the fall was what left her on the brink of death. T'liøa was not injured as severely as I had feared, and thus afterwards I sang Raën into T'liøa's heart of hearts, ensuring her survival."

"All of this pain and loss," Arya said with a sniff, "how is it that you can burden so much pain?"

"I do not dwell on my emotions as often as I used to," Ŝtanin replied, opening his eyes and looking down at Arya. "Much like the elves, I not only learned to conceal my emotions, but I've learned to lock them away. I'm unsure if elves can lock their emotions away, but takes years of practice to lock away your emotions."

Arya wiped the tears away from her eyes. She tried to focus on asking her next question, but the image of Raën falling over the edge of the platform was still fresh in her mind. Fresh tears began to well up in her eyes once more.

"Come," Ŝtanin said as he placed a large hand on her left shoulder, "you've endured enough emotional trauma for one day, much more than any other elf. Let us make our way down to Roran's home."

Arya sniffed as she turned to begin walking with Ŝtanin away from the cliff. However, they did not make it more than twenty feet before a boy ran up to them, panting heavily. He hastily bowed to Arya. "Queen Arya, you are needed at Roran's residence at once!" he said between breathes.

"Of what importance is it?" Arya asked as she straightened up and quickly brushed away her tears.

"It is Eragon!" the boy exclaimed. "He has news of utmost importance!"

"Eragon?" Arya said. It was a name she had not heard in quite some time.

"Well then," said Ŝtanin, "I think now we have a good enough reason to make our way to Roran's home." The old Drëkøn looked down at the boy, who was no taller than Arya's waist, "Thank you, we'll be on our way immediately."

ͼͽ

As Arya and Ŝtanin entered through the narrow space leading into Roran's private study, Arya managed to catch the last of Roran's conversation with Eragon, "…just need to trust me on this, Eragon. He's probably the most powerful ally we have at this point."

Upon entering the study, Roran looked over his shoulder, "Speak of the devil, here they are now." He pushed away from his desk.

Arya and Roran nodded to one another as she passed him by. Then she leaned forward against the desk and peered down into the mirror, seeing Eragon's face looking back at her. Upon seeing his face, Arya felt a surge of emotion she had not been expecting. _Is this happiness?_ she thought to herself. She smiled trying to subdue as much of this emotion she felt as possible, "Eragon! It is good to finally see you after all these years. How have you been?"

"Arya," Eragon said, smiling back at her, "what a relief it is to see you. Everything around here has been going smoothly since we arrived here. We received word from Orik a little while ago that their egg hatched for one of their own. Arya, a dwarf Rider!"

"That is amazing to hear," said Arya. "Now the dwarves will have much to look forward to in terms of their first Rider. As do the Urgals."

"Has their egg finally hatched as well?" Eragon asked with surprise.

"It has," Arya replied. "Though, it seems that the egg hatched perhaps a year ago."

"Hmmm," said Eragon, "I wonder why they waited a year after their egg hatched."

"We'll know once Raiga awakens," Arya stated, "she will tell us why they had not sent her earlier. Now, how has Saphira been doing?"

Eragon grinned, "She finally laid her eggs a week ago. Twenty eggs!"

Arya smiled, "At long last, it is a relief to know she has finally become a mother." She smirked as Fírnen brushed his mind against hers, "And that Fírnen has become a father."

Eragon nodded, "Aye. Soon, a fresh generation of dragons will be walking this earth."

Stanin stepped next to Arya and peered down at Eragon, "It's a relief to know that the dragon species will not go extinct. Eragon, Arya, both of you should be proud of yourselves. You, as well as your dragons have saved the dragon species. It is not often someone may say that."

Eragon's jaw dropped slightly upon seeing the old Drëkøn. He stuttered as he tried to find his voice again, "Th-thank you. Y-you must be who Roran has told me about. Ŝtanin."

The old Drekon nodded, "Yes. Roran, Arya and much of the village have all spoken highly of you, Eragon."

"He is the one who overthrew the tyrant king who ruled for over a hundred years, I'll have you know," Roran said from behind Arya and Ŝtanin.

"That he is," Arya said with a nod. She looked down at Eragon again, "Now, what is this matter of utmost importance that you have contacted us about?"

Eragon chewed his lower lip for a brief moment before looking up again, "Well, it's…a bit difficult to explain in words. We…found something under the mountain."

Arya furrowed her eyebrows, "What do you mean, 'something'?"

"All I can say is that there is some sort of…room in the nesting chambers," said Eragon. "A room that we had no idea was there…and by the looks of things, it appears to have been inside the mountain for as long as the mountain has been here." He shook his head, "You must see it for yourself in order to fully understand what I mean."

Arya and Ŝtanin looked at one another.

"A room inside the mountain?" Ŝtanin asked.

"Sounds much like your tomb, as it was within the cliff itself," Arya said.

"This certainly is interesting to hear," Ŝtanin said looking back at Eragon. "Perhaps it is an ancient dwarf ruin?"

Eragon shook his head in response, "Nay. The crater our city is being built in is much too old for it to be an ancient ruin of any kind. Orik said that this crater more than likely was formed millions of years ago. Besides, it is inside the mountain with…hundreds of feet of stone between it and the outside world."

"Millions of years ago," Arya repeated. "That would mean the room and the crater predate your species, Ŝtanin-elda."

"So it would seem," Ŝtanin stated. "But what civilization could possibly have existed millions of years ago?"

"Orik did also mention that craters such as ours were formed by rocks that originate from the heavens," Eragon added.

"But," Arya began, a bit stumped, "what in the world is a room doing within a stone from the heavens?"

"An asteroid," Ŝtanin said.

"Is that what you call it?" Eragon asked.

Ŝtanin shook his head, "No, it is what 'rocks from the heavens' are called. There is an entire belt of stones and asteroids orbiting the sun, much like our world orbits the sun. They are remnants left over from the creation of our solar system."

Eragon scratched his temple, his confusion evident, "I think I'll have to ask how you know so much more about the heavens than the elves do at a later time."

"That would be wise," Arya nodded in agreement.

"This is certainly a very intriguing discovery you've made, Eragon," Ŝtanin said. "Perhaps it sheds new light on the secrets of the universe." He glanced up at Arya, "Forgive me, but I must take my leave for now. There is something I must attend to."

Without another word, he turned around and left the study, nodding to Roran as he passed by.

Arya looked over her shoulder after Ŝtanin and Roran came to stand by her side.

Eragon blinked, "Well, that was rather abrupt."

Roran nodded, "Aye. There's still much we have to learn about him."

"We will have to take our time learning more about him," Arya said as she turned her head back to look down at Eragon. "For now, it has been five and a half long years since last we spoke with one another. We have much to share with one another."

ͼͽ

The hours of the night quickly melted away into the morning hours. Roran had retired to his bed earlier, leaving Arya and Eragon alone to share their experiences with one another.

As the sun began to crawl from behind the horizon, a small purple dragon had appeared in the mirror on top of Eragon's right shoulder, whom Arya thought looked very much like a smaller Saphira. "And who might that be?" Arya asked, indicating with her head towards the purple dragon.

Eragon glanced at the small, cat-sized dragon, "I almost forgot. This is Kaeshta. She bonded with Blödhgarm about a month ago."

Arya raised an eyebrow, "For a month old hatchling, she is fairly small."

Eragon shrugged, "Well, we're feeding her properly. Perhaps it's just taking longer for her to grow." He glanced at Kaeshta again and fell silent as the two of them seemed to exchange words with one another. A minute went by before Eragon's eyes widened, "Oi, I'd almost forgotten!"

Kaeshta snorted in response.

"I take it you must have business to take care of," Arya said.

Eragon nodded, "I'm sorry, but I must oversee the planning for the nursery."

Arya smiled, "It's quite alright, Eragon. I was meaning to visit the Urgal Rider's dragon." She brushed aside a few strands of hair that had fallen over her left eye, "I hope to visit you one day, Eragon. I am eager to see the new city of the Riders, as well as the new clutch."

Eragon smiled in response, "I hope you may visit as well. I wouldn't want you to miss seeing the eggs before we begin receiving new candidates for Riders." Kaeshta dug her claws into his right shoulder, causing him to wince, "I'm sorry Arya, but I have to go. Tell both Katrina and Ismira that I said hello. And Horst as well."

Arya nodded, "I will. Farewell Eragon. It was nice to see you." Something within Arya stirred, however. She wished to speak with him for just a little while longer. But she knew she must let him be off to tend to matters of his own.

"Farewell," Eragon said as he turned. He smiled at her once more before his image faded and she was staring at her own reflection.

Arya leaned back into the chair she sat in and sighed. They had shared a fair amount of their experiences from the last five and a half years with one another. But she still felt as if they had not talked with one another long enough. She glanced down at her hands, which had begun to tremble ever so slightly. Was this love she felt? Love of Eragon? Was this the emotion that eluded her ever since Eragon first expressed his feelings to her?

The old Drëkøn's words from the memory came back to her, _"What emotions you experience here, you will live with those emotions for the rest of you days on this planet…You and I shall burden the same emotions."_ She had not thought it would affect her this way. She had not realized just how much of a risk it was to share the same emotions of a being far more ancient than she was. Perhaps this was her destiny, to share Ŝtanin's emotions…to know what it is like to be human.

These elusive emotions were never part of her life, as she had never once thoroughly thought about them as being a part of her. But now, as a result of delving into a perfect memory, Arya realized just how much these elusive emotions really were a part of her. They'd always been a part of her ever since she was a child, but she never made use of them. She'd always been taught to disregard her emotions, thus she never thought about them.

She glanced to her right out the window to see the sun finally peak out from behind a mountain as it continued to rise in the sky. _A beautiful sight I've seen countless times,_ she thought to herself. _But only now can I truly appreciate its beauty._ She sighed as she thought of just how difficult was going to be to adjust to these emotions that had surfaced. She was unsure of just how difficult it would be to hide them…and for how long before others began to take notice.

But one thing was certain to her now that she'd seen Ŝtanin's memory; she finally fully understood the ancient Drëkøn, Ŝtanin.

**Ä**

**End Chapter 11**

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAYD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>********Raiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)  
>Zeryu: ZIR-you<strong>****

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>àidúreni: AE-doo-ren-ee - water; summons and controls water<br>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of **Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.  
>argäete: are-GA-yet - silver<br>Baénok!: BAY-knock - Shield!  
>Belothard: name given to a gas giant planet with rings by ancient <strong>Drëkøn scholars; name literally means 'Green Wonder.'<br>**brësëngar: breh-sen-gar - fire  
><strong>****Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac; possibly the <strong>Drëkøn word for demon)<strong>****  
>delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a <strong>Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available<strong>**)****  
>Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival<br>****Drogä: drow-GAH - name **Drëkøn use when referring to their species.**  
><strong>******Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: FRAH-in-low - wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Hëhzaak wréatøv! - Blade materialize!<br>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.  
>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.  
><strong>Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<strong>  
><strong>krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
>Léatt: stop<br>****Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>sovà: sow-VAY - a gender-neutral honorific suffix used by <strong>Drëkøn when speaking to dragons they are familiar with, attached by a hyphen.<strong>  
>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - <strong>Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.<strong>**

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>älfa: elf; same word used by <strong>Drëkøn when referring to elves.<strong>  
><strong>**adurna: water  
>arget: silver<br>Argetlam: Silverhand  
>brisingr: fire<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>Fölterías: name of the Grey Folk's race.<br>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm**

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	12. Once Adreamed

**3/25/13 So, I said that I wouldn't be working on anymore content until summer vacation...well, I couldn't resist the urge to keep writing. It's just...too much, I needed to write. So, I got to developing a more...concrete background story for Angela, since so little is known about her throughout the Cycle. I had to come up with something that would be believeable with IC lore, something that would makes sense within the world of **Alagaësia. Not only that, but I had to figure out how I was going to connect her backstory with the prehistoric prophecy. So, originally when I started this whole story of _Eldäriän_, I planned on having Angela be something not of **Alagaësia**, something else entirely that is unknown. But with this chapter, that original idea was thrown out the window, and I immediately chose the next best idea. Not only that, but besides background story, Angela gets a bit of a character development and her relationship with Ŝtanin is explored. Next to all of that, a few questions that some of you may have regarding certain things in this story will hopefully be answered and explained. I put a lot of classroom hours into working on this guys, hours that I should have spent listening to reviews and explanations for upcoming quizzes and exams. So I really would appreciate it if you guys gave me at least some reviews for this chapter. It really would make me happy guys, it really would. Because your reviews are what keeps me writing. Your reviews are whats keeping this story alive. Your reviews are...what I need to better understand myself as a writer. So please, just leave a few reviews to show me that you guys really do care. Anyways, enjoy the read guys!****

* * *

><p>218/13

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 12<p>

Once Adreamed

The early morning air was frigid. A low, thick mist hovered over the ground, covering it with a blanket of white almost like a deep layer of freshly fallen snow. The sky and clouds slowly turned from a deep shade of pink to a bright yellow-orange, then to the bright blue and white colors that signaled morning had arrived.

A lone figure made its way through the village. Mist kicked upwards in front of the figures blouse with each step they took and cascaded down behind their blouse. The figure wore a hood on their head, obscuring their face from view. They stopped and turned around to face the direction they'd been walking from. Their breath billowed out in front of their head with each exhale as they seemed to wait for someone or something.

A large, brown fluffy tail sprung up from the mist a few yards away from them and quickly rushed through the mist towards the figure.

Angela stooped down and scooped Solembum into her arms as he came to stand by her feet in the mist. "I do not agree with your idea of leaving Raiga unattended," she said as she turned and continued walking out of the village, "but at the same time, I am just as curious as you to know where he was going in such a hurry."

Solembum purred while he lay slump in her arms, _Do not worry about the Urgal. She is a capable warrior who can defend herself, I am sure of that._ His tail flicked as he gazed ahead, towards the jumble of rocks at the edge of the village, _She awoke not too long ago, so take comfort in knowing she has recovered._

Angela sighed, "Yes, she seems to be alright. Nonetheless, I made it my duty to watch over the only Urgal Rider until she has fully recovered."

_But your curiosity of the Drëkøn is blatantly stronger than your sense of duty,_ Solembum replied. His head quickly turned towards the right as a lone buck that had been watching them turned and pranced back into the woods. _I've noticed a change in you ever since you had the ancient knowledge of the Drëkøn forced into your head. You seem…comfortable around him._

Angela raised an eyebrow while still looking out ahead of her, "Comfortable? How so?"

_I am unsure myself,_ the werecat responded, _but you almost seem to be familiar with him, as if you have known him for quite some time._

"What gives you the impression that I am familiar with him?" the herbalist asked, glancing down at Solembum. "I'd never seen the likes of him or his kind until we all first laid our eyes upon him a week and a half ago." She scoffed, "I could not have met him before Roran or Arya did. It could not have been possible to do so anyway; only a Rider could have opened the crypt."

Solembum snorted, _But that does not change the fact that I sense you are familiar with him._

She rolled her eyes, "Then you are most likely imagining it, because I have only known him for as long as you have."

_No matter,_ the werecat stated and looked back towards the jumble of rocks, _I know he went back to the crypt. Where else would he have gone beyond the village?_

Angela shook her head, "I'm not sure, but I'm checking the crypt anyhow. I'd still like to probe further into the depths of the crypt, see what else there is."

ͼͽ

Angela glanced about her as she made her way to the other side of the initial chamber. Her eyes briefly fell upon the three stone circles in the center of the chamber, noting that the dragon and Fanghur eggs were still present. But the Nïdhwal egg was gone. At first, she didn't register its absence immediately, but upon noticing the lack of rippling cyan light on the ceiling did she do a double-take and again glanced back towards the circle filled with water.

She smiled to herself as she remembered how Elva had been so fascinated with the Nïdhwal egg. Perhaps she could not resist the temptation to take it with her.

Solembum wandered around the chamber, his eyes wide-open as he gazed around him. He came upon one of the crystalline depressions in the wall and stood up on his hind-legs, placing his forepaws on the surface of the crystal while peering inside at the preserved Drëkøn within. His tail twitched several times as he studied the long dead being. _It's remarkable how well they are preserved considering how long ago they died,_ he said, twitching his whiskers. _I still find it rather intriguing that the dwarves are not the oldest natives of Alagaësia._

Angela stopped before one of the three tunnels that led deeper into the crypt, "You and me both." She called to Solembum over her shoulder, "I think he went this way."

Solembum pushed away from the wall and quickly hurried over to Angela. He stopped just as Angela entered the dimly lit tunnel. _Are you sure he went this way?_ He sniffed the air for a few moments and then shook his head quickly as he sneezed, squeaking loudly.

Angela stopped and looked over her shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. Solembum licked his chops several times before proceeding into the tunnel.

_There's too much dust floating in the air,_ he said simply.

Angela only laughed silently as she resumed walking down the tunnel.

ͼͽ

They walked through the confusing network of burial chambers, galleries and corridors for what seemed like hours. They would have gotten lost from the very beginning if it were not for both Solembum's nose and a distinct path of tunnels and corridors that were lit up by glowing runes.

However, with each burial chamber they passed through, Angela was constantly reminded of how these ancient people had perished. Her emotions fluctuated between sadness and anger, which puzzled her greatly. Although she'd never known about the Drëkøn people, since learning from Ŝtanin how they had died stirred within her emotions she had not felt in ages.

She could not explain why the knowledge of how they died angered her. Not only that, but she could not explain why she was saddened by that same knowledge, knowing that Ŝtanin was the only one left of his kind. It troubled her, not knowing why she felt these emotions. Typically, she never felt any sorrow for another when something as traumatic as losing a loved one occurs. Perhaps it was because an entire species was wiped from existence that caused her to feel such emotions, but Angela was still not certain.

Was this the change within her that Solembum had mentioned to her not too long ago? Was he right about her being comfortable around the old Drëkøn? Was she really familiar with Ŝtanin without her knowing it?

She shook her head, clearing her head of any and all questions. _No, I most certainly have never known him before. He's much too old!_

Nonetheless, Angela's strange emotions persisted as they continued to follow the path of lit corridors and tunnels.

ͼͽ

They emerged into a large open room completely bathed in cyan light. In the very center of the room was a single perfectly straight hexagonal crystal. On the floor surrounding the hexagonal crystal was a complete circle of crystal, with beautiful mosaic like patterns within its structure.

On the opposite side of the room, Ŝtanin stood by the wall, his figure silhouetted by the cyan light from a large square crystal he stood in front of.

Ŝtanin breathed deeply and sighed loudly, opened his eyes and resumed the task at hand. He placed the tips of his claws on the flat surface of the thin, diagonal crystal that protruded from the wall. Where his claw tips touched, small white square lights followed the movement of his claws across the surface of the crystal. The diagonal crystal itself was illuminated by cyan light from somewhere within the wall it protruded from.

"I didn't expect you two to find me so quickly," Ŝtanin spoke to them while never taking his eyes off of the crystal before him.

Angela gazed around the chamber in awe as she slowly walked over to Ŝtanin. Solembum gazed about as well, his eyes wide with awe as well.

The chamber they stood in was in the shape of a cylinder. Large square and rectangular crystals, all of them illuminated by cyan light, lined the whole wall of the cylindrical chamber. Occasionally, different shapes and lights flickered within those crystals set within the wall. Below each of those square crystals, thin diagonal crystals protruded from the wall, similar to the one Ŝtanin moved his claw tips across.

The old Drëkøn's eyes moved from side to side as he looked at the large flat square crystal in the wall directly in front of him. Various holographic symbols and runes appeared occasionally within the crystal itself.

Angela stopped next to him and peered up at the square crystal, utterly stunned by what she was seeing.

Again, Ŝtanin sighed. He reached up, touched the flat surface of the larger flat crystal in front of him, and flicked his hand to the right. A set of holographic runes beneath his claw tip zipped off to the right side, following his claw until they disappeared from the crystal entirely.

The Drëkøn shook his head, "I knew I should not have brought it down this far underground." He glanced to his left at Angela, "But keeping it hidden from the world was important." He looked back up and resumed dragging his claw tips across the surface of the diagonal crystal, causing runes and symbols to appear and align within the larger crystal, "The safety of every being in Alagaësia, as well as the world, was my top priority."

"What is all of this?" Angela asked after she finally found her voice.

Again Ŝtanin reached up and flicked his hand to the right after touching the crystal, removing the set of runes from the crystal. "I still wonder why the elves have not utilized the full potential of crystal yet." He turned his left eye towards her, "This, is the technology of my people."

Angela furrowed her eyebrows, "'Technology'? How can mere crystal be considered technology?"

The corner of Ŝtanin's mouth curled up into a slight smile, "This may be crystal, but it is anything but mere. All of this crystal," he said, indicating the whole room, "has evolved through the introduction of magic into its very structure."

Angela folded her arms, "Crystal that has 'evolved'? That hardly makes sense. A rock cannot evolve simply by using magic. It is still a rock even when transformed by magic. It takes a great amount of heat and pressure for a rock to evolve."

Ŝtanin held up an index finger, "Ah, I see you are familiar with the processes of rock formation and metamorphosis. But that is not what I mean by evolution." He resumed to drag his claws across the surface of the diagonal crystal.

Angela glanced at the crystal as more runes aligned within the crystal. "Then what do you mean? How does magic cause a crystal to evolve? If it is as simple as introducing magic into a crystal, why have I not seen the elves using this 'technology'?"

"A question I have asked myself," Ŝtanin replied. "But it is far more complicated than simply storing magic within a crystal. It involves directly imbuing the very nature of the crystal with magic, literally energizing it." He tapped the larger crystal with one claw, "The act of imbuing the nature of this crystal screen with magic caused it to in a sense, come to life. It has evolved from an inert state to an energetic state."

Angela nodded, "I see."

_But then how is it considered 'technology'?_ Solembum asked as he sat down beside Angela's left foot.

"For the very reason that it has the ability to store vast amounts of knowledge within its crystalline structure," Ŝtanin answered, not taking his eyes off the crystal screen. "My people discovered that this technology acts almost like the brain in terms of memory. And then we were able to eventually unlock its full potential, allowing us to interact with the knowledge stored within its structure."

_That is what you are doing now?_ Solembum asked, gazing up at the crystal screen. _Pick me up,_ he said to Angela, _I can't see a thing from down here._

Angela bent down and scooped the werecat up into her arms. Solembum sat upright in her arms, curiously peering up at the crystal screen.

Ŝtanin nodded, "Yes. At the moment, I'm attempting to devise a formula that will allow the teleportation pedestal to leap through several hundred meters of solid stone." He glanced over his left shoulder back at the circular crystal set into the floor of the chamber, "It was difficult enough to jump it to this chamber. It involved much precise calibration and minute alignment to jump to an exact location, especially a location deep beneath the surface of the earth."

Solembum blinked, utterly mystified by what the Drëkøn had said, _You lost me at 'teleportation pedestal'._

"You're species was quite advanced for its time," Angela observed. "But why hide your existence? Why hide everything your species achieved?"

Ŝtanin frowned and repeated what he'd said earlier, "To ensure the safety of every being of Alagaësia. If but one being knew of the existence of my kind, everyone would be in jeopardy…" His head angled down as he paused from his task, still frowning, "Including the Fölterías. Any and all would become targets of those who were Converted."

Angela stiffened upon hearing the name. Her muscles tensed up and her heart raced. But she remained calm, keeping her breathing normal. Solembum, sensing her unease, turned his head around and looked up at her, watching her carefully.

Ŝtanin glanced at her, sensing her unease as well. He watched her for a few moments before he asked, "Is something troubling you?"

Angela blinked and looked up at the old Drëkøn, taken aback by his question, "Me? Troubled?" She turned away and walked onto the circular crystal pedestal in the center of the chamber and gazed down at the intricate mosaic-like patterns in the crystal, "What makes you think that something is troubling me?"

Ŝtanin turned and returned his focus on the crystal screen, "Forgive me. Perhaps I am still having trouble with carefully observing human emotions."

"Perhaps," Angela said as she studied the hexagonal crystal prism in the very center of the chamber. "But you still have not answered my question." She turned and set her gaze on the back of Ŝtanin's head, "What makes you think something is troubling me?"

Ŝtanin paused from what he was doing, staring at the set of runes he had just aligned in the crystal screen. He was silent for a few minutes, seemingly to struggle with himself about how to answer her question. Then, he sighed and turned to face her, "You're curiosity with me is much greater than that of the half-elf Hölgeron and the human Jeod. It seems that when I reveal something about myself, you seem either to be quite interested, or quite disturbed by whatever it is I reveal."

For a very brief moment, the old Drëkøn frowned again. It was a very subtle expression of emotion, as he near instantaneously replaced it with a slight smile. But Angela had managed to catch this subtle change of emotion. Her eyes narrowed as she became suspicious of the Drëkøn, "You're lying. There is something you are not telling me…something you wish to tell me but cannot because you are afraid of the consequences. What is it you are afraid to tell me?"

Ŝtanin averted his blue gaze. He pivoted on his left foot and proceeded to walk towards another tunnel opening opposite the one Angela had entered the chamber from. He indicated for her to follow him, "I'm sorry, but it's for your own protection. The less you know, the better. But I will show you something you might find interesting."

Still looking at him with suspicion, Angela followed him into the tunnel.

Solembum still studied Angela carefully, unsure of what exactly it was about Angela that he was sensing. _Angela, you yourself are not saying what is on your mind. I've never seen you so tense before. What did he say that stirred you?_

Angela shook her head and only replied with, _The less you know, the better._

ͼͽ

They passed through several chambers where the walls were adorned with more of the strange technology crystals once used by the ancient Drëkøn. The whole while, Angela struggled to understand what Ŝtanin was hiding from her. What sort of knowledge could possibly threaten her safety? Not only that, but did he really think she was not capable to defending herself against a threat?

But as she thought about his words, Angela's concern grew. Perhaps he knew her deepest secrets, or was fully aware of who she really was. How he could have managed to infiltrate her mind and memories, she had no idea. Moreover, she wondered why he had not gone mad if he really had managed to peer into her mind.

Angela shook her head and thought to herself, _Don't kid yourself Angela. He's not human or elf. Maybe my mind won't affect him like it would a human or elf peering into my mind._

Ŝtanin glanced over his left shoulder at her as they made their way down another passage, "You're worrying yourself too much, Angela. I have not infiltrated your mind in any way."

"Then what do you call reading my thoughts?" Angela scoffed.

Ŝtanin looked ahead of him again, "Nonetheless, I have not peered into your deepest secrets. I understand your need for secrets, especially considering who you really are."

Angela stopped and raised her arm up and shot her forearm forward, pointing at Ŝtanin's back, "Ah hah! At last the truth finally comes out! You've known who I am all along, haven't you?" Her eyes narrowed with even greater suspicion, "Enough of the lies and secrets! Come now, out with it! _How do you know?!_"

Ŝtanin paused as he looked at Angela with his left eye, "Very well. There's no sense in hiding it from you any longer." He placed a hand on a small circular crystal set within the wall of the passage.

Suddenly, the tunnel became illuminated by bright cyan light as thousands upon thousands of crystals lit up simultaneously, causing Angela to squint. The light came from a massive chamber in front of Ŝtanin. His form was completely silhouetted by the light from within the chamber.

Ŝtanin stepped inside the massive chamber, allowing more light to flood into the passage.

Angela stared in awe at what she saw.

It was truly a massive chamber, almost incomprehensibly massive. She stared down the length of an isle made entirely of cyan crystal.

Ŝtanin turned and lifted his arms up with palms facing upwards as Angela stepped into the chamber, "This, is the Újiwó Pęyøc nït éz Drogä, Grand Archive of the Drogä."

Angela's mouth parted slightly as she glanced up to see that the isle reached up all the way to the ceiling a hundred feet or so above. Glancing to her left and to her right, she saw many more crystalline isles extending off into the distance in both directions.

"Grand Archive of the Drogä?" Angela asked as she again looked up at the height of the isle in front of her.

Ŝtanin nodded his head as he tuned his head to look down the isle, "Yes. Everything you would ever like to know of my people, rests within this archive. The entire history of my people, every memory from every generation of Drogä…it is all stored here, in this chamber. But this is only one of many Archives hidden throughout the land of Alagaësia."

Solembum dropped down from Angela's arms onto the floor. He shifted into his human form, staring up at the huge isle of crystal with his mouth agape.

Ŝtanin turned and set off down the length of the crystal isle. Angela noticed him walking away from the corner of eye, and immediately followed after him. Solembum rushed over to follow behind her after a few more minutes of staring about him at the massive chamber.

"You still haven't told me how you know who I am," she said, folding her arms over her chest as she walked behind the Drëkøn, "You're purposely avoiding telling me the truth. Why?"

Ŝtanin huffed quietly, but Angela could tell he was frustrated, "I am not avoiding telling you the truth, Angela. I am simply leading you to what you seek." He turned left down another isle of crystal, his claws clacking against the smooth crystal floor. "All around you, the knowledge and history of my people slumbers within the crystals. But only one of these crystals contains the answers to the secrets you so desire." He glanced back at Angela as he turned right into another isle, "I will not risk your safety by directly telling you those answers."

Angela's impatience with the Drëkøn was growing with each question he avoided answering. She did not understand how knowledge would put her at risk, "How? How is it that my life will be in danger if you simply answer my question? It does not make sense that I'd be in danger all because you gave me a simple answer to a simple question I asked."

"The universe works in mysterious ways, Angela," Ŝtanin replied over his right shoulder. "And just like the universe, It works in mysterious ways as well. It may not be present in our time at the moment, but It was present in the past long enough to establish a firm rule over Its Converted."

"These Converted…what are they exactly?" Solembum asked. "You mentioned them before, even called the boy Ta'rol a Converted."

Ŝtanin fell silent as they walked along the glowing cyan crystal isle. A few minutes passed by before he answered, "They are individuals, ordinary people, abducted by It and Its servants and taken to wherever It hides. There, I can only speculate that It casts a spell upon them, binding their minds into eternal servitude." He turned right into another isle and quickly turned left into the immediate isle on his left, "Once their minds are bound into eternal servitude by this spell, they no longer possess freedom of will or choice. Their actions are dictated by the spell and it controls even the slightest of decisions to work in favor of It. Though It is not present within history at the moment, Its Converted are still very present and still abducting unsuspecting people to turn them into Converted."

"So, in other words they are Its slaves, yes?" Solembum said as he gazed up above him, noticing that there were platforms overhead, spaced every ten feet or so reaching up to the ceiling.

"In essence, yes," Ŝtanin answered, "but they are more than just slaves. Their latent abilities are unlocked. The spell grants them the ability to use magic, and allows them to tap into unimaginable powers locked deep within their beings." The Drëkøn shook his head, "These individuals are turned into spies, assassins, covert agents…and terrorists. And to make matters worse, this spell is passed on from generation to generation. Hence, why the boy Ta'rol was a Converted. The daecri was not the one who released the boy's essence into pure energy…it was the boy himself who released his own essence. A result of the spell's influence over him."

Ŝtanin stopped before a hollow within the crystal isle on the left. He turned around to face them. He indicated to them to step within the hollow, "Step inside. We must go up."

Angela and Solembum stepped into the hollow, standing side by side. Ŝtanin stepped in front of them, turning his back to them, and then touched one of a dozen small circular shapes formed within the crystal with one finger. The small circle in the crystal he'd touched glowed with a subtle white light very briefly. Suddenly, a bright white light surrounded them in one instant, and then had completely faded away the next instant.

Angela blinked as Ŝtanin stepped out of the hollow and turned left. "We didn't move at all," she said. Then she noticed the platform directly across from where she stood, and she understood what had happened. "Teleportation?" she asked as she stepped out of the hollow and followed the Drëkøn.

Ŝtanin nodded as he continued down the length of the platform they had teleported up to, "Precisely. However, this is only localized teleportation. This pad is only able to transport matter on a vertical plane. The pedestal you saw in the first chamber is capable of jumping much greater distances in any direction."

Solembum's mind touched Angela's, _These Drëkøn are far more advanced than any race today. I wonder how they became so advanced all those hundreds of thousands of years ago._

_I wonder myself as well,_ Angela said in response. _I can only assume they were gifted with incredible intellect._

"Here we are," Ŝtanin said as he stopped and turned to face Angela. He pointed to one of the thin vertical crystals that protruded from the rest of the crystal surrounding it. It was just like any other of the many vertical crystals that protruded forth, but Ŝtanin indicated to the one directly to his right. "This…is your memory shard."

Angela glanced at the thin crystal for a moment before looking at the Drëkøn with one raised eyebrow, "_My_ memory shard?"

He nodded, "It contains the answers you've been seeking ever since we first met two weeks ago."

Angela turned to the thin crystal, a bit perplexed by what he meant by it being her memory shard. "What do you mean this is _my_ memory shard?"

Ŝtanin closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, then answered, "It holds the memories you did not know you once had."

Angela stared at the Drëkøn, dumbfounded. "What? How can that possibly be? How could it hold my memories if I've never been here before, nor ever known about you or your peop-?" She stopped as it finally hit her. She understood then what he'd meant. "Two weeks ago was not the first time we've met before, haven't we?" she asked, her suspicion of the Drëkøn growing with each passing second. She quickly glanced at the crystal shard Ŝtanin had called hers, and a strange sense of fear began to crawl up her spine; fear of whatever knowledge there was stored within the crystal. She looked back at the Drëkøn, "Why could you simply not have told me that we've met long before this?"

Ŝtanin averted his gaze down to the crystal floor, silent for a few seconds before responding, "The protection measure I implemented on the spell I cast upon all of Alagaësia. If I had not implemented this protection measure and I had simply told you everything you wished to know…any and all of Its Converted would become instantly aware that you remember me, and you would become their target." He glanced back up at Angela, "I'm taking the necessary precautions to keep you and everyone else within Oestaerya as safe as I possibly can. If I tell you anything that will cause you to remember me, your life will be in danger. But even with the protection measure in play, I am taking caution to not directly answer your questions that may cause you to remember. However, you realized yourself that we met long ago, therefore no Converted will have been alerted, especially with the protection measure of my spell in effect."

"Why could you not say that to begin with?" Solembum asked as he dug a fingernail between his canines.

"The risk of telling you before coming here was too great if you realized earlier that we'd met once before long ago," Ŝtanin replied as he glanced from Angela to Solembum and then back to Angela again. "Now that you are here, you know what this crystal holds and the risk is minimal with the protection measure in effect."

Angela sighed and rubbed her temples, "I see now…this whole prehistoric prophecy business must weigh heavily upon your shoulders, as you are the last of your kind that can tell us about it."

Ŝtanin nodded, "Indeed it does. It is my duty as the last of my kind to make certain that all necessary knowledge is passed down, without revealing too much sensitive knowledge." He indicated towards the crystal, "In your case, it is reuniting you with memories you did not know you had."

"So, if this crystal contains my memories I never knew existed," Angela said as she stepped closer to the crystal in question, "then that means we've met each other before the discovery of this crypt. That in turn means…" She turned to look at Ŝtanin, "That my memory was altered after our last encounter, correct?" The strange sense of fear she felt persisted still. She desired to know what was held within the crystal, but at the same time she feared what she might discover. "I've been living a lie my whole life, haven't I?"

"I sense your unease to reunite with your memories," Ŝtanin observed. "I can understand your fear of what lies in the crystal, as it has been over eight thousand years since these memories were stored here."

"What?!" Solembum exclaimed. Both Angela and Ŝtanin glanced at him. The werecat turned his bewildered gaze up towards Angela, "Ei-eight thousand years?!"

Angela closed her eyes and sighed, "Well, this is certainly the predicament."

"It most definitely is," Solembum asserted. "This question has always been on my mind, but I never had the courage to ask you. Now I have _every_ reason to ask you. _Who_ and _what_ are you? And I do not want any riddles from you this time!"

Angela was silent for a moment as she drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Then she answered, "My mother and father were among the Grey Folk who originally came to Alagaësia over nine thousand years ago." Solembum's cat-like eyes widened and Angela looked away, "I was born seven hundred years after their arrival to Alagaësia. By then, most of the Grey Folk that had arrived had returned to the lands whence they came. But my mother and father were among the few who remained. I was present when they and the others first bound magic to words from the Ancient language."

"You're…you're one of the Grey Folk?" Solembum asked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Angela nodded in response, "Indeed I am."

"Then why did you not return with your parents back to their homeland?" Solembum inquired, his bewilderment turning to utter interest.

Angela frowned and looked away from the werecat. She was silent for a few minutes before she answered, "For the very reason that they never returned." Solembum stared at Angela, a bit confused by what she meant. Angela sighed as she leaned up against the crystal balustrade, "When I was just a little girl of fifteen years of age, our settlement was attacked by unknown beasts. Six members of our settlement were killed, four of whose bodies were never found…my mother and father were the other two slain in the attack. We never found out what attacked the settlement and not many stayed for long afterwards…I was only one of seven who remained here in Alagaësia after the surprise attack."

From the corner of her eye, Angela saw Ŝtanin angle his head down and close his eyes as he sighed quietly. She turned to him, "I'm assuming that whatever is within that memory shard will instantly change everything I've known for the last eight thousand years, yes?"

Ŝtanin nodded, "Aye, it will rewrite some of what you've known to be true all your life, and render it all to lies."

Angela sighed again as she pushed off the crystal balustrade and stepped closer to the memory shard crystal once more. She stared at the thin crystal, hesitant to touch it.

"Angela," Ŝtanin said gently. She glanced at him, "I am not forcing you to do this. I only wish to give back what is yours, as I see the time is now fit to do so."

She looked back to the memory shard. Her right hand opened and closed several times, then she rubbed the fingers of her right hand together for a moment. A knot of anxiety built up in her chest and her heart began to race. Along with her anxiety, her fear continued to mount. She was afraid of changing anything she'd known to be true, afraid that whatever memories were within the crystal might change anything she'd known about her mother and father. Never had she felt like this before…not since she saw both her mother and father dead on the ground, both with two small puncture wounds to their necks.

Solembum watched nervously while Ŝtanin looked on patiently.

She took a deep breath and exhaled through her mouth, calming her nerves. She made her decision, reached up with her right hand and paused. "Well…here goes nothing."

Her index finger gently touched the bottom corner of the memory shard…

ͼͽ

Nasuada tapped her foot against the wooden floor as she stood looking out the front window of Baldor's home. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her clothes were slightly disheveled from having been woken up at such an early hour. "You still should have told her of the risk, Ŝtanin," she said. She turned on her heels to face the old Drëkøn, "You warned Arya of the risks of your perfect memory…why not warn Angela of the risks of reuniting with ancient memories?" Her eyes fell upon the unconscious Angela, who lay on her back on the same table Raiga had been laying on while the herbalist tended to the young Urgals' wounds four days earlier.

Ŝtanin bowed his head to Nasuada, "Forgive me, I myself was not aware this would happen."

He glanced to his left as the Urgal Rider Raiga appeared in one of the open doorways. She leaned against the door frame and stared up at Ŝtanin with wonder. She wore a fresh cloth around her head and left side of her face that Angela had wrapped earlier in the morning.

"No, I'm sorry," Nasuada sighed. "I'm just glad it only knocked her unconscious, rather than do worse damage." She glanced to her right at Raiga, who still stared at the Drëkøn. "Still, I have to wonder why you're telling me all this, Ŝtanin. I know you to be full of secrets…but why tell me about Angela?"

Ŝtanin looked back at Nasuada, "There is no one else within this village aside from you and Arya that truly can keep secrets. You are a woman of your word and your duty. You are the Queen of Alagaësia, after all." He looked to Solembum, who was in his werecat form again and sitting comfortably on top of the couch in front of the window, "I trust you can keep everything you have learned of Angela today a secret, yes?"

Solembum snorted softly, _When it comes to Angela, I reveal nothing about her to anyone else. So, yes I will keep everything I've learned of her today a secret. I am not about to let it become common knowledge that she is one of the Grey Folk and risk losing the trust of a dear friend._ The werecat stood up, yawned as he stretched his back and hopped down from the couch to the floor. He sauntered over to Raiga and rubbed up against her legs. Raiga looked down and smiled while kneeling down to the floor to stroke Solembum along his back with her left hand.

Ŝtanin let out a quiet sigh of relief, "Very well."

"I still can't believe she's one of the Grey Folk," Nasuada said as she shook her head. "I mean, I had my suspicions about her, even considered the possibility of her being one of them…but to actually have that suspicion confirmed…"

_Believe you me,_ Solembum said, looking up at Nasuada from where he sat in front of Raiga, who still stroked his head while looking up curiously at Ŝtanin again, _it was quite the shock to hear her reveal her ancient secret herself. I always knew that she was hiding many secrets, and I always had some kind of question about what she was. But never did I once think she'd be one of the Grey Folk._ He purred loudly as Raiga began scratching him behind his right ear, _I always thought she was some kind of being with magical powers, but never one of the people who bound magic to words of the Ancient language._

Nasuada flicked her eyes over to Ŝtanin, "And you knew her when she was a little girl?" She brushed a stray lock of hair away from her left eye.

Ŝtanin shook his head slowly, "I'm sorry, but only Angela may reveal knowledge such as that. Only she may tell you if she knew me all those centuries ago. A necessary precaution I must take in order to keep you and all of Oestaerya safe and within the effect of my spells protection measure."

"And what if she chooses not to reveal that information?" Angela's voice said from behind Ŝtanin.

"Angela!" Nasuada exclaimed in surprise. "You're awake!"

Ŝtanin turned and faced the herbalist as she swung her legs over the side of the table, "That is her decision to make, not mine."

Angela glared at the old Drëkøn, "You told her _everything?!_"

"Angela, it's quite alright," Nasuada began, "I won't-"

Angela quickly glanced angrily at Nasuada, "'Quite alright'? _Quite alright?!_" Her glare fell upon the old Drëkøn again, "He's told you who I am! I've spent my entire life guarding my identity from the rest of the world, and now he has spilled the beans!" Angela had begun shouting at that point, her face turning red with anger. "You expect me to trust you now that you've revealed my most closely guarded secret?"

Ŝtanin closed his eyes and bowed his head, "Forgive me, Angela. But I felt it necessary for the figure of authority to know what had transpired in the Grand Archive."

Angela furrowed her eyebrows, her anger growing hotter with each passing second, "You felt it necessary? _You had no right!_"

"And what was I to say when I brought you here, limp in my arms?" Ŝtanin growled angrily. Nasuada drew a surprised breath and backed away from the Drëkøn, surprised by his sudden display of emotion. Raiga hugged Solembum closer to her as she and the werecat both stared up at the Drëkøn with fearful eyes. "You expected me to lie in the face of authority?" Ŝtanin growled again, his upper lip twitching as it curled up slightly into a silent snarl.

Nasuada studied the Drëkøn carefully. Of all the people she expected less likely to show any sign of anger, she hadn't imagined the ancient Drëkøn to blow up quite as easily as he had. Something told her that Ŝtanin's frustration with Angela was something that he had come to be familiar with, something that had become a part of who he was…uncannily similar to that of a father's frustration with his young child.

Angela threw her head back and laughed. Her laughter filled the large dinning room, bouncing back and forth between the wooden walls of the room. "You must be joking! _You?_ Unable to keep a secret from the likes of her? Hah! I thought you saw yourself above the authority of a mere human who calls herself the Queen of Alagaësia," Angela sneered as she hopped down to the floor from the table. "I mean, you are a Drëkøn after all, the smartest and most powerful of all races that ever existed. Nothing should be stopping you from killing us all with a twitch of your finger. That way, you wouldn't have to worry at all about your little protection measure or about being unable to keep a secret from the face of authority. But you bow down to authority that you are clearly above."

She looked the Drëkøn up and down quickly, before sneering again, "I thought you would have developed some kind of sense of superiority to lesser races, but clearly you haven't. You're pathetic, Ŝtanin-héva. You haven't changed one bit in all those centuries. You're just as soft as you were all those thousands of years ago."

"Enough!" Ŝtanin roared, the power of his voice causing the glass panes to tremble slightly in their window frames. His scaly and spiked brows lowered slightly as he angled his head down to glare menacingly at Angela. "I haven't changed because this is who I am! I haven't developed a sense of superiority because _no race is ever_ above the other, no matter how different they are! Authority means nothing to me, yes, but I know when it is necessary to respect the very face of authority, unlike some people!" A long, drawn out hiss emanated from the Drëkøn's throat.

Angela rolled her eyes at that and turned away from him as she folded her arms over her chest, causing Ŝtanin to growl loudly. "Do not roll your eyes at me youngling! You may be as ancient as you are," he said and narrowed his eyes, "but you are still the same stubborn young lass that I took under my wing and raised with care and the gentleness of my heart. I sincerely hoped that your attitude would have changed over the centuries Angela-tøbí, that you would have learned to be more like your mother as you wandered about these lands." He shook his head, "But now I see you have not changed at all either."

Angela snorted at that and turned her head towards the Drëkøn, "Then I believe that makes two of us. I'm the same young and irresponsible little girl you always said I was, so it seems." She turned her body towards him Ŝtanin, giving him a look of distaste, "And you're still the same old dragon who couldn't learn to hold onto others trust in you. I once dreamed of seeing the day when you saw the importance of people placing their trust in you." She grimaced, "But it seems that it'll stay that way…just a dream."

With that, Angela turned on her heel and stomped towards the door.

Ŝtanin sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor, "Angela." The herbalist stopped with her hand on the handle of the door and glared back at the old Drëkøn. "I'm sorry," he said and turned his eyes up to Angela, "…I'm sorry I was not there to protect them."

Angela glared at the old Drëkøn angrily, her face and ears turning as red as a cherry. Silence fell and the air grew thicker with the tension between Angela and Ŝtanin with each passing second. Suddenly, her irises seemed to shimmer as they turned a magnificent lavender color, and then Angela finally spoke in a resentful tone as she furrowed her eyebrows in anger, "You're eight thousand and seven hundred fifty-two years too late with your apology, Ŝtanin-héva." She turned the door handle, wrenched the door open and stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

No one spoke a word. The only sound to be heard was the old Drëkøn's deep breathing. All eyes were on the Drëkøn.

Then, Ŝtanin angled his head down towards the floor and let out a deep sigh. "I should have foreseen this," he said, his voice heavy with guilt.

_I don't think I've ever seen that side of her_, Solembum said, still cradled in Raiga's arms.

Nasuada blinked and closed her mouth as she recomposed herself, "What happened between you two all those thousands of years ago?"

Ŝtanin turned to face Nasuada, his claws dragging across the wooden floor as he turned, "Well, I suppose it is safe to speak of the past, now that Angela has revealed to you that she knew me once before." He walked passed Nasuada and stopped in front of the window, clasping his hands together behind his back. He watched Angela as she pushed passed both Baldor and Roran, who stood by the front gate of Baldor's home. She did not look back as Roran seemed to call after her. Instead, she continued storming towards the center of the village.

Again, the old Drëkøn sighed, "I was there the day she was born. Beautiful child she was, with her fathers coiled brown fur on her head and her mothers stunning lavender eyes." He smiled to himself, "She never did like the color of her eyes, so she always changed them every so often. I watched her grow from a small youngling that roared with her powerful lungs as she shook her miniscule fists, to a brilliantly intelligent young lass with a passion for knowledge and adventure." The Drëkøn's tail flicked to one side, "She was always finding ways to get into some sort of trouble, but no matter what happened afterwards she was always smiling cheerfully. She never let anything negative affect her quest for adventure and knowledge.

"Before I knew it, fifteen years had gone by and she'd grown into a stunning lass who refused to be restrained by rules," Ŝtanin continued, his tail slowly and gently swaying from side to side. "A stubborn lass she'd become, yet still the same cheerful youngling." The smile then faded from his muzzle, and his tail ceased to sway, "And then, while I was out with a few members of her settlement…the settlement was attacked by unknown beasts." Ŝtanin grimaced, "We returned to find the settlement completely untouched, so whatever surprised them had exquisite knowledge in the art of stealth. Six of the seven who stayed behind had been killed; four of the bodies had gone missing. But the two bodies we did recover were viscously mauled…her mother and father. Both had two puncture wounds to their jugulars." He glanced sideways with his right eye at Nasuada, "Killed by a single bite from the beasts."

_And the seventh?_ Solembum asked.

Ŝtanin was silent for a few moments, his tail twitching twice. Then he replied, "Angela watched the beasts maul and kill her mother and father. The event was very traumatic, so much so that her mind was overwhelmed with the shock of the deaths of her mother and father." He turned his head to the right and looked back at Nasuada and Solembum with his right eye, "Her mind involuntarily deleted the memory of the beasts attacking and slaying her mother and father as a result of the shock."

"I'm guessing that's why you never found out what attacked the settlement," Nasuada observed. "She saw what attacked the settlement, but since that memory no longer exists…"

_The beasts remain unknown,_ Solembum concluded her sentence.

Ŝtanin nodded in response, "Yes, that is the hard truth of it. I never did find what attacked the settlement. I believe the creatures were very intelligent, as they not only seemed to be incredibly stealthy, but they hunt as a community rather than a pack."

Nasuada furrowed her eyebrows, "What are you saying?"

Ŝtanin looked to Raiga, who hugged Solembum closer to her after he looked at her, "This youngling was attacked by an unknown creature neither humans nor elves knew existed…a creature that neither Angela nor I have ever seen or heard of." Nasuada looked at Raiga as well, "She witnessed how these creatures hunt, saw that they do not hunt in packs, but as a whole community." Ŝtanin glanced at Nasuada, "Whatever creatures surprised the Fölterías settlement, there were more than just a few, I am certain of that." He looked at Raiga once more, "If she had not thought to bring the corpse of one of these creatures, then I would not have been able to come to the conclusion I came to after seeing the creature."

"Which is?" Nasuada asked.

Ŝtanin's tail twitched once, "The symmetry, size and shape of the puncture wounds on Angela's mother and father's necks match that of the upper fangs in the wereserpents mouth."

_Are you certain of this deduction?_ Solembum asked, his right ear flicking rapidly twice as a stray strand of Raiga's hair fell into his ear.

Ŝtanin nodded, "I am. I would not have deduced this if I had not seen the corpse of the wereserpent."

Nasuada sighed, "Interesting. I trust your judgment on that. It does make sense…perhaps these wereserpents do not desire to be discovered, but now we know of their existence thanks to Raiga." She turned to the old Drëkøn again, "But I'm still more interested in understanding why your relationship with Angela has turned south now that she has her old memories again."

Ŝtanin drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly through his nostrils, "After the deaths of her mother and father, I took Angela under my wing and raised her as if she were my own." He turned and went to stand in front of the window once again, "However, she blamed me for not being there to protect them." His head angled downwards, and Nasuada could see the pain in his eyes in his window reflection. "She felt that I had left the settlement vulnerable without taking care to cast any wards. She never forgave me for leaving the settlement that day, thus she loathed me for the remainder of the years I spent raising her."

He sighed, "That is why she and I never saw eye to eye with one another and never bonded properly with one another."

ͼͽ

Despite the nip of the cold and crisp morning air, Angela's face was hot with anger. She quickly stormed through the cobblestone plaza of the village center. She curved around the ornately designed stone fountain in the center of the plaza and headed for one of the cobblestone paths leading out of the plaza. She stomped passed by a farmer and his young son, both of whom carried large baskets of fresh meat and vegetables towards the market stands on the opposite side of the plaza.

Angela walked parallel to the iron fence that lined the cobblestone path and paralleled one of the outer walls of the village council building. The entire structure was an architectural marvel of stone masonry. Unlike the rest of the buildings surrounding the plaza, all of the straight corners of the council building were beveled and framed by ornately carved wooden beams. There were eight support arches that hugged the outside of the building from the walls, all the way up to the top of the angled and ceramic shingled roof. The top of each arch was crowned with beautiful bronze moldings of the heads of dragons, facing both backward and forward.

But Angela had no patience at that moment to admire the council building as she stomped towards her intended destination; Hölgeron and Jeod's study tent.

She remembered…she remembered everything from after her parents were slain.

All those years spent resenting the ancient Drëkøn for being absent that day; all those years of arguments and tense disputes with one another…the life Angela hadn't known she'd lived had finally been made known to her. With her ancient memories returned, so too did her boiling anger and resentment of the ancient Drëkøn.

She continued to follow the cobblestone path as it turned away to the left slightly. Angela finally saw the tent a hundred meters away, and her heated pace quickened. Within a matter of seconds, Angela had reached the tent. As she thrust her left arm forward and grabbed the flap of the tent, she reached into her robes with her right and produced her favorite weapon; Tinkledeath.

She forcefully threw the flap open as she quickly hurried inside.

Both Hölgeron and Jeod looked up, startled by the suddenness of the tent flap flying open. Both stood hunched over a wooden table in the middle of the tent, the corpse of the wereserpent lying on the table. They both looked up in surprise. Jeod turned his head to look back over his right shoulder. On the other side of the table, Hölgeron glanced up from leaning over the head of the wereserpent. He had one hand on the side of the wereserpents snout as he had turned its head on its side so that he may examine the creature's large serpentine eyes.

"Angela, what-" Jeod began to exclaim but was cut short as Angela took two steps forward, grabbed him by his right shoulder and pushed him aside forcefully.

Then she raised Tinkledeath high above her head and roared angrily as she brought it down on the wereserpents head. Hölgeron barely had enough time to react as he quickly drew his hand back from the wereserpents head.

Tinkledeath pierced the dead wereserpents eye perpendicular to its vertical pupil and plunged through its head, sinking in up to the hilt. Eight inches of the end of the sword had emerged through the bottom of the table, thick blood slowly oozing down its transparent surface.

Angela placed her left hand on the table and leaned forward, huffing and puffing as her red hot fury slowly simmered down. She stared down into the scaly beast's eye as blood began to slowly well up around the bottom of the swords hilt. Her lavender eyes shimmered as her festering anger gradually died down with each heavy breath she took.

Neither Hölgeron nor Jeod dared to say a word or move a muscle. Neither had seen such bitter emotion from the herbalist and neither of them wished to incite anymore anger from her than they had already seen. Jeod slowly edged away from the herbalist while Hölgeron regained his composure and stood up straight. Both stared at the herbalist nervously, wondering what she was going to do next.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Angela's breathing returned to normal. Then, she jerked Tinkledeath from the wereserpents eye. Globs of thick blood fell to the ground through the hole in the table as the sword receded back up through the table. No blood clung to the blade, but Angela still flicked the blade downwards to shake any loose blood from its surface. She replaced the sword back into its scabbard.

She'd finally realized the predator that stalked the very edge of her memories and dreams, always hiding in the darkest shadows of her mind. She had finally discovered the vile creature that had ever so quietly entered her settlement and viscously mauled and killed her people with careful stealth and precise coordination with its community. She finally knew the beast Ŝtanin had been unable to protect her mother and father from.

Angela had finally realized her purpose within the prehistoric prophecy. The obscure and macabre images of an eternally dark forest and slender figures dancing around a strange glowing white artifact resting on a pedestal-like altar littered with human remains. _'Those wicked shant show life at thy feet in darkest of dark woods, and Weapon's light shall be guarded in thy hands.'_ The strange words she'd heard when receiving the ancient knowledge finally made sense to her, and her emotions fluctuated from subtle anger to overwhelming anxiety as the reality of the daunting task before her crashed down upon her shoulders.

Angela turned on her heel and faced the tent flap. She closed her eyes and drew a long deep breath.

No more was she the same herbalist who travelled with her werecat companion.

No longer was she the witch whom the Varden respected greatly.

Her dreams of finding her ultimate purpose in this world had finally become reality.

She was Angela, Slayer of the Wicked and Guardian of the Weapon.

Ä

End Chapter 12

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAYD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>R********aiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK<br>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)  
>Zeryu: ZIR-you<strong>****

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>àidúreni: AE-doo-ren-ee - water; summons and controls water<br>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of **Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.  
>argäete: are-GA-yet - silver<br>Belothard: name given to a gas giant planet with rings by ancient **Drëkøn scholars; name literally means 'Green Wonder.'  
><strong>brësëngar: breh-sen-gar - fire  
><strong>****Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac; possibly the <strong>Drëkøn word for demon)<br>******delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a **Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available****)  
><strong>**Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival  
><strong><strong>Drogä: drow-GAH - name <strong>Drëkøn use when referring to their species.<br>**********Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: FRAH-in-low - wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Hëhzaak wréatøv! - Blade materialize!<br>héva: HEH-vah - gender neutral suffix used by **Drëkøn** children when referring to his or her mother or father, attached by a hyphen.  
>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.<br>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.  
>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>**Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<br>****krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
><strong>**********Léatt: stop  
><strong>**Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>sovà: sow-VAY - a gender-neutral honorific suffix used by <strong>Drëkøn when speaking to dragons they are familiar with, attached by a hyphen.<br>tøbí: TEH-bee - a gender neutral suffix used by a **Drëkøn mother or father when speaking to his or her child, attached by a hyphen.**  
><strong>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - **Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.  
>Újiwó Pęyøc nït éz Drogä - Grand Archive of the <strong><strong>Drogä<strong>**.****

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>älfa: elf; same word used by <strong>Drëkøn when referring to elves.<br>******adurna: water  
>arget: silver<br>Argetlam: Silverhand  
>brisingr: fire<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen.  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>Fölterías: name of the Grey Folk's race.<br>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm**

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	13. Obscure Alliance

**6/9/14 Well...I'm truly sorry that I left all you readers hanging for literally a year. I really am. I can't say anything that will justify my reason for not having done this any sooner for you all. All I will say is that life...kinda extended my writer's block. The combination of classes, assignments, helping my dad around his office during the summer, and then back to lots of stressful classes and assignments really just...kept me away from my work on this chapter. This was perhaps the toughest chapter I had to push through. I didn't force this chapter out, because I still want this chapter to be of the kind of quality I aim to provide you guys with in my writing. Over this weekend, I spent a relaxing time up in the Catskills at a house we rented for the weekend...and I finally managed to regain that spark of creativity that I desperately needed to complete this chapter.  
>And I finished chapter thirteen, as you can see here. This chapter marks the point where the more...major events of this story will be occurring. So, after this chapter, the story will be moving along much more quickly. So, chapter fourteen will be the chapter I assume many of you have been waiting for, as a few MAJOR plot events will take place within it. And I'm pretty sure that some of you can already guess what one of those major events in chapter fourteen will be, but I won't be revealing what that event is nonetheless. So, this chapter is NOT the turning point of this story, but it has set up chapter fourteen to be the turning point of the story, or midpoint of the story if you prefer to be professional. I hope that with this chapter, my creative spark will continue through the rest of this summer and I can get chapter fourteen out to you guys within a reasonable amount of time.<br>But anyways, again I'm sorry for making you all wait for so long! I hope you enjoy the read!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>918/13

* * *

><p>Eldäriän<p>

By: Filip Lesiczka

This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.

This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

* * *

><p>Chapter 13<p>

Obscure Alliance

The sun peeked a curved edge from behind a dark and ominous anvil-shaped cloud that had formed on the horizon only an hour earlier. Curtains of rain hanging in the atmosphere beneath the leading edge of the clouds' extended head glowed as the sun's rays pierced through the midday humidity.

It had been close to four weeks since she arrived at the human village, four weeks of recuperation…four weeks of doing nothing; almost a week and a half since the herbalist Angela had suddenly gotten into some sort of disagreement with the strange, tall human-like dragon creature. She itched to do something with herself, to find some sort of activity to keep herself occupied while regaining all of her strength. By the time she was finally able to stand up without becoming light-headed or even losing consciousness, her blood was already boiling from inactivity due to being confined to a bed that was not hers.

All the while, through the entirety of those four weeks, the strange urge to travel in the direction of the Hadarac Desert persisted and nagged at her mind. It had gotten to the point of being an exhausting nuisance, keeping her up for many hours at a time during the nights.

The sounds of children laughing and screaming reached Raiga's ears. She blinked and shook her head as her thoughts returned to the present, then glanced up ahead of her across the pond she stood at. A group of seven children sat at the opposite end of the pond, dipping their hands in the crystal clear water and giggling as the many different ornamental fish mouthed at their little fingers.

She didn't understand what was so entertaining about the fish. Much less, she didn't understand how the children found it fun to be bitten by the fish.

Raiga looked back down in frustration. Several of the largest calico colored fish had come to where she stood at the edge of the pond, their large fleshy mouths protruding from the water and opening and closing repeatedly. It was almost as if they were begging for food.

She watched the biggest of the large fish; an orange, white and blue calico monster with elegantly long and flowing white fins. The strange fish was easily larger than one of the small children on the opposite side of the pond, perhaps larger than Raiga was tall. The monstrous fish opened its cavernous mouth, flapping its thick fleshy lips at her; the fish could easily engulf Raiga's head and shoulders. But she knew from what she had observed that these fish did not eat meat at all.

She snorted softly as she watched the behemoth fish. _What stupid animals these are,_ she thought to herself. She turned her back to the pond and walked away, _The humans here have made them soft and weak._

Her bare feet scuffled against the wide cobblestone path that stretched through the center of town and out towards the edge of town, in the direction of a large home sitting at the top of the nearby cliff.

Raiga reached up her left hand to scratch at an itch beneath her left ear. Instead, she rubbed the bandages that covered much of the left side of her face, which partially covered her left eye as well. She let out a sigh of frustration as she lowered her hand, somewhat satisfied as the tingling itch was subdued. She'd known for much of her life that wounds took time to heal, but she hadn't realized just how long it really took for them to properly heal.

She glanced down at the bandages wrapped around her upper arms and elbows. Raiga was growing tired of the bandages. She did not want her wounds to heal properly; she wanted to wear her wounds as scars, to wear them with the utmost pride and dignity and be able to tell the story of her encounter with the fearsome wereserpents.

She looked up again as the sound of deep grunts and snarls reached her ear. She glanced up to see Criiztak standing before the larger green dragon she had come to know by the name Fírnen. She smirked as she headed in the direction of the two dragons. Although the green dragon had been tasked with teaching Criiztak the language of the humans, the two had not been able to see eye to eye with one another.

As Raiga drew nearer she could see just how agitated Criiztak was. His tail whipping from side to side, mowing down tall blades of grass; the knuckles of his wings planted on the ground on either side of him; his neck arched back and his head angled low while his upper lip was peeled back in a snarl, exposing his gums and teeth. He glared up at Fírnen with a look of intense distaste.

Meanwhile, the larger green only held his head high, looking down at Criiztak with half-lidded eyes while he remained as calm as could be; Fírnen appeared entirely disinterested with the smaller dragon's attempt at looking bigger and stronger.

Raiga reached her mind out to Criiztak, _Criiztak…why can you not accept his guidance? He only wishes to teach you the language everyone here speaks._

The pale blue dragon glanced towards Raiga as she approached, Fírnen glancing down at her as well. _I don't need his guidance!_ Criiztak exclaimed angrily, his words ringing forcefully within her mind like a war drum. _I am fully capable of learning on my very own! How difficult can it be to learn another language by one's self?_

Both lilac and amber eyes tracked the young Urgal before she stopped in front of Criiztak. She reached a hand up and motioned for him to lower his head down to her. Criiztak blinked, his snarling lip lowered as he hesitated for moment, shooting a glance up at the half-lidded gaze of the larger green. Then, without a word, he lowered his head down until his snout was level with her shoulders. The pale blue gave her a questioning look.

Raiga smiled up at him for a brief moment. Criiztak blinked again.

Suddenly, Raiga's smile morphed into a snarl as she took a step forward with her left foot, raised her right arm back as she clenched her fist and then thrust her arm forward with all her might. Her fist met the end of his snout with a dull thump.

This startled the pale blue, eliciting a surprised snort from him as he quickly pulled his head back with a shake and took several steps back.

He looked down at her, confused by her sudden display of violence; meanwhile, a hoarse growling cough erupted from deep within Fírnen's chest. The green was laughing, amused by Raiga's authority over Criiztak.

"Stop being such a stubborn lizard!" Raiga barked firmly in her native tongue. "It is no simple task to learn a new language by one's self! Even with the help of someone well-versed in my language, I still struggle to learn the most basic of words in the human language!"

Raiga huffed as she stared menacingly up at the confused Criiztak for several more minutes. Criiztak averted his gaze from her, an expression of mixed shame and confusion in his eyes. Then, Raiga straightened up as she took several deep breaths and exhaled. She looked back up at him, _Criiztak, I know that you feel as a dragon you can learn anything and everything on your own._ She turned and glanced up at the still amused Fírnen, _I'm fairly certain that he had to learn much on his own only because there were no other dragons to guide him._

Turning back to Criiztak, she smiled up at him warmly as she tucked her long and thick black bangs behind her right ear, which prompted him to look at her once more, _Please, do not be stubborn. Learn what knowledge he has to pass on to you. Do it for me._

Criiztak lowered his head again until his eyes were level with hers. They gazed into one another's eyes for several moments before he spoke, _Very well…I will do it for you, my little huntress._

Raiga grinned as she stepped forward again, this time throwing her arms around his snout and embracing his muzzle tightly. Criiztak closed his eyes and hummed deeply.

Likewise, Fírnen, who had been observing the whole time, hummed as well to indicate his approval.

ͼͽ

_She is a very brave little one,_ Fírnen said as he stared down at the little Urgal Rider. _She is much more level-headed than any other of the Urgals we have ever met, no?_

A smirk formed on one corner of her mouth as she observed as well from the top of the cliff overlooking the village, _She is indeed. Not only that, but she knows how to control her primal instincts and emotions, unlike most of her kind._

A breeze rolled in, ruffling the folds of her riding blouse. Arya smiled, _She's a very capable Rider already, despite not having any formal training as of yet._

A growling cough echoed in her mind as Fírnen laughed, _The bond these two share is already strong no doubt. They remind me of Saphira and Eragon._

The smile on Arya's face softened at the mention of Eragon's name. _Eragon._ Her anticipation of reuniting with him had grown terribly unbearable. Ever since they had spoken with one another via the mirror, she yearned to embrace him tightly, to hold him and never let go of him ever again. But at the same time, it was an altogether alien experience to feel the emotions she had been feeling for almost four weeks. _This must be what humans must feel when they are separated from loved ones for long periods of time,_ she thought to herself. She was still uneasy with the new emotions, but at the same time she felt that she could keep them hidden from those around her despite knowing she now would live with the new emotions for the rest of her days.

A shout from somewhere down below her brought her back from her thoughts.

_Are you alright?_ Fírnen asked, having sensed her unease.

_I am,_ she replied simply. She glanced towards her left, down in the direction of the ornamental ponds, where she'd heard the shout come from. A villager stood at the edge of the largest of the four ponds, his hands on his head as he seemed to pull at his hair. Beside him stood Elva, who stared down into clear waters of the pond. She wondered what the villager was shouting about. _Why don't you go check on Elva, see how she is. She has been rather quiet for the past week and a half._

The only response from the green dragon was a grunt.

ͼͽ

Angela smirked as she watched the two of them with her arms folded over her chest. Fírnen had at that point turned and headed off towards the center of the village.

"Seems like she calmed him right down rather quickly," said a voice from beside her where she stood at the window.

Angela glanced to her left; it was Nasuada. Angela looked back and chuckled softly, "She has quite the authority over him. She might even make a capable leader one day."

"Aye, that she might," Nasuada replied with a nod. "I've been hoping that Nar Garzhvog would accept my offer of giving his people a place among our military ranks…" She shook her head, "But he hasn't responded in the last four years…"

Angela smirked again, "That's unusual of him. He was quite eager to have his people fight alongside your forces in the Varden." She shrugged, "Maybe he just needs more time to consider the offer, who knows."

Nasuada sighed with another nod, "Perhaps. I just hope it doesn't take him until the day he is on his death bed for him to decide. But, we'll see." She reached up her left hand and rubbed her temple, "On another note, I'm a little worried, Angela."

Angela glanced sideways at her, "About?"

Nasuada pursed her lips for a moment as the two of them locked eyes before replying, "You."

Angela's left eyebrow arched upwards at that, "Me? Why worry about me?"

"It's been almost a week and a half since you got your memories back, Angela."

The herbalist quickly averted her gaze, fully aware of where the conversation was heading. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Angela! It's been close to a week and a half since your argument with Ŝtanin," Nasuada said with a worrisome tone on her voice.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you."

"You have to let go of your ancient grudges, Angela! You can't hold onto them forev-"

Angela turned and sneered at Nasuada, "Who says I cannot hold onto my old grudges? Who says I should put faith into someone who can barely hold anybody's trust for more than a year?!" Nasuada blinked with surprise at the herbalists' sudden bout of anger.

The herbalist turned away sharply on her heel, her hair whipping around from the momentum. She stopped in the middle of Baldor's dining room, falling silent for several minutes. Then, she drew a deep breath before speaking, "He promised that nothing would happen to us while he was away with the other half of our settlement." She spun back around, glaring a Nasuada, "He promised that nothing could harm us! You know full well now that that promise was broken. How could I trust someone like him?"

Nasuada sighed and stepped towards Angela, gently placing a hand on Angela's right shoulder, "Angela…it's not a matter of trust. It's a matter of accepting the fact that he had a hand in raising you as much as your mother and father did. It's important that you must come to terms with the knowledge that he loved you as if you were his own child."

Angela snorted at that, her lavender glare firmly upon Nasuada, "You must be joking. That old dragon? _Love?_ How would you know that he loved me at all? _No._ He was always too caught up in his own self-importance and prophetic fantasy to show me any love, just as he is still incapable of showing any love to anyone. Or even trust for that matter."

Nasuada smiled as she shook her head, "You know that's not true Angela. And I know that you know it's not true. I know because he told me…and he told me a lot about you."

Angela snorted again and turned away from Nasuada as she tossed her hair over her right shoulder, walking towards the front door to Baldor's home. "You don't know everything about me. I don't need to listen to this. And I certainly don't need to be lectured by you."

With that, she grabbed the door handle and swung the door open.

"Angela."

The herbalist stopped and shot a glare over her left shoulder.

"Please…let go of your grudge against Ŝtanin. As your friend, it's painful for me to know that you hold such bitterness towards him. I wouldn't want you to bear such a heavy grudge against him for the rest of your life. It's not healthy."

Angela only rolled her eyes and stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Nasuada exhaled loudly, releasing her pent up anxiety. She hoped she hadn't gotten on the herbalists bad side; she certainly did not want to get on her bad side. She rubbed her temple as she thought to herself, _You might not approve of it, Angela, but I promise you that I will try to help restore your bond with Ŝtanin. I will see to it that you may place your trust in him again…and that you may come to accept his fatherly love of you._

ͼͽ

He admired the intricate patterns in the crystal pedestal beneath his feet. He could not get over the fact that the crystal itself was technology, and that it had a specific function. He could not shake the feeling of insignificance he felt from being in the presence of something so ancient, yet far more advanced than anything any race in Alagaësia had ever had at its disposal.

"So…" Roran said as he warily touched the top of the short hexagonal crystal column in the center of the teleportation pedestal that Ŝtanin had used to return to the surface with Angela and Solembum. "You want to use this to take them to Eragon?"

The old Drëkøn turned around to face him, looking up from a rectangular slab of cyan crystal about the size of a moderately sized book in his left hand. "Aye. It will be much faster than dragonback or horseback. We'd be on Eragon's doorstep in a matter of a few seconds with this."

Roran nodded as he looked down once more at the patterning in the teleportation pedestal beneath him. He wasn't sure what to say at that point, nor was he certain if he wanted to ask the Drëkøn something more personal.

Ŝtanin smirked, "I can sense your hesitation, Roran. You wish to come with us, yes?"

Roran sighed and nodded in response, "I'm not going to lie. I really wish to see him and Saphira once more, to see where they are building the next city of the Riders and to see how they have fared with my own eyes."

The old Drëkøn nodded as he turned his attention back down to the flat rectangular crystal in his hand and running his right index finger claw down its surface and tapping its surface in several spots, "You have every right to join us, Roran. What is stopping you?"

"My duties to my village and my family." He turned and looked towards the village of Oestaerya, admiring it. He noticed Fírnen, and the pale blue dragon Criiztak standing before one another off in the distance by the edge of the village. "I can't just abandon my duties simply because I desire to reunite with Eragon."

Ŝtanin chuckled, "Ah, that's where this comes in, Roran." Without moving his feet, Roran pivoted his hips to face the old Drëkøn again, "With this teleportation pedestal, you have the freedom to instantly return here whenever you desire." He turned his blue gaze towards him again and smiled, "It is as easy as thinking of your village. As long as you have access to this teleportation pedestal, you are never far from your village and loved ones. But do remember, you are one of the Four; you will have to leave your village on your destined journey eventually."

Roran took a deep breath before he looked back towards the village. He pondered for quite a bit, weighing his options carefully. He glanced at the old Drëkøn once more, "But what if another…Converted, or Ra'zac for that matter, were to attack the village?"

"I thought you would ask such a question. That is why I cast an invisibility spell and defense ward that with hope, will keep your village safe for the duration of my absence. It should render the village and its inhabitants undetectable to and hidden from the Ra'zac, and hopefully any Converted as well. I have checked the spell and ward several times just to be certain I have properly cast them."

"'Hopefully,'" Roran repeated. He sighed as he shook his head, "I don't know Ŝtanin. I'm torn. I want to believe that your spell and ward will 'hopefully' keep the village safe…but at the same time I don't want to put faith in a spell and ward that will '_hopefully_' keep the village and my people safe."

Ŝtanin bowed his head, "Very well. Why don't you give it some thought for now? There's still time to think it over. We will not be leaving until the evening."

"Aye," Roran said with uncertainty. "But what about Angela? Is she going with you?"

Ŝtanin took a deep breath and exhaled, thin streams of smoke slowly rising from his nostrils as he looked ahead of him off into the distance. Roran could tell that the old Drëkøn was uncertain of the answer to the question himself. "I can only hope that she sets her bitterness towards me aside and joins us on this journey." The old Drëkøn angled his gaze downwards as what appeared to be a pained expression formed on his muzzle, sadness seeming to fill his deep blue eyes.

Roran nodded his head slowly, "I hope so too. But…I still don't understand. Why does she resent you so all of a sudden? Why the sudden change of her opinion of you?"

"It is…something of a complicated matter. I do not wish to talk about it," Ŝtanin stated as he looked off into the distance once more. A cool breeze rolled in, bringing with it the smell of wood smoke and cattle. His tail gently swayed from side to side as silence fell between them.

Roran turned on his heel and stepped closer to the old Drëkøn, placing a hand on his right shoulder, "Well, I can respect that. But don't worry. Whatever the reason may be, as your friend I will work on helping to restore your friendship with Angela."

The old Drëkøn looked at Roran with his right eye, and the corner of his lips curled up into a subtle smile and his voice grew soft, "Thank you, Roran. I appreciate it." The old Drëkøn then blinked as he turned his blue eye back towards the center of the village. "Hmmm."

Roran glanced back towards the village, noticing Fírnen had moved away from the pale blue, "Something wrong?"

Fírnen had at that point emerged from behind one of the taller buildings in the village before stopping beside two figures.

The old Drëkøn chuckled lightly before a soft, yet still deep rumble formed in his chest, "I knew the witch-child would be worthy the moment I laid my eyes upon her."

Roran glanced sideways at the old Drëkøn with a raised eyebrow, "'Worthy'? Worthy of what?"

ͼͽ

He looked down at the angered villager curiously. It was the man that he'd come to know by the name of Danik, the one who had forbidden him from snacking on the colorful fish in the small clear ponds.

He snorted, startling the red faced, red-haired man. Danik looked up with his beady brown eyes at Fírnen. Elva glanced up at Fírnen as well. "What are you lookin' at?" Danik snapped in a hoarse and dry voice.

Fírnen cocked his head, reaching his mind out to the short man, _Is everything alright?_ He flicked his eyes down to Elva, who smiled at him, something he rarely saw her do.

Danik turned his head back towards the pond before him, indicating with both hands upturned to the sky towards the clear waters as he exclaimed loudly in quivering anger, "Just look! I come back after two weeks to see this! All of them! Gone! Eaten! Torn to shreds!"

Fírnen blinked and looked down into the waters. He expected to see the many orange, white, black, yellow, red and multicolored fish he'd been admiring for some time. Instead, he saw no movement of color in the pond. The only color present was from the many ghostly white carcasses of what was left of all the fish in the pond, stripped bare to the bone.

_What happened?_ Fírnen asked as he stared at the fish bones and heads strewn all over the bottom of the pond.

Danik turned his red face towards Elva, his red eyebrows furrowed and beady green eyes glaring with burning discontent, "This young'un decided to put her little pet in my pond with all my prized fish!"

Fírnen blinked again as he turned his amber gaze down to Elva. He cocked his head to one side as he asked, _Little pet?_

Elva grinned widely at him, then looked down at her feet and pointed at something floating just at the grassy edge of the pond.

Fírnen lowered his head as he peered down at the strange floating object. He stared at it for several more seconds before he realized he was looking at a very small creature, which stared up at him with frightful deep celestial blue colored eyes.

He snorted, and the tiny reptilian creature flinched, paddling backwards with its flippers and arching its long thin neck as it pulled its head back. He was not sure what he was looking at.

It had two sets of oar-like flippers instead of legs and paws; its front flippers slightly larger than its rear flippers; a long thin tail with a fluke-like structure at the end; leathery dark blue skin on its back, a thin, tapering and blended light blue line that started from the back of its jaw, down its long neck and on the flanks of its serpent-like body, to the end of its tail, and a bluish-white underside from what Fírnen could see on the underside of its neck and under jaw. The peculiar creature had a pair of horns on the top of its head that twisted around while remaining straight, and large web-like frills located on either side of its head, just behind its jaw. The most peculiar thing about the creature was a pair of two long tendrils that emerged from just behind its eye ridges; both tendrils were almost as long as its long and serpentine neck.

Fírnen blinked as he continued studying the odd creature, the head of which was very angular and long, with wide jaws, much like a serpent. He brushed his mind against the creatures own mind, causing it to let out a high pitched squeak as it flinched again, diving beneath the still waters and fleeing to the deeper part of the pond. It turned back beneath the water and stared back at the green dragon. For some reason, when he brushed his mind up against its own he'd felt a sense of familiarity with the creature. Yet, never had he seen such a creature before.

He blinked, then glanced back at Elva, _What is it?_

"Her name is Winräi," Elva replied with a grin, excited happiness evident in her voice. "She's a Nïdhwal!"

Fírnen blinked, glancing up at Danik, who had lost the red color and angry look from his face.

"What do you mean 'she's a Nïdhwal', lass?" Danik asked as he scratched his left temple with his index finger, his red eyebrows stitched together with confusion. "Last I checked them beasts lived out in the sea!"

Elva looked out towards the submerged Nïdhwal as she beamed, "Winräi is a freshwater Nïdhwal, of course."

_Little one,_ Fírnen said as he glanced back at the Nïdhwal, _are you telling me that you took the Nïdhwal egg from the Drëkøn tomb…and it hatched?_

Elva only responded by looking back up into his large amber eye and grinning widely again.

A slight twinge of curiosity struck him as he remembered what Arya had revealed to him what Ŝtanin had said about his people bonding with freshwater Nïdhwal. _Have you…bonded with the Nïdhwal?_

Elva giggled softly in response as she folded her arms and looked back towards the Nïdhwal, which had risen from the deep end of the pond and poked only the top half of its angular head from the water, "I wouldn't know that she is a female if I had not bonded with her, now would I?" She smirked and lifted her left hand up, turning it and opening her palm.

There, in the very center of her left palm, was the distinct circular shape of the gedwëy ignasia. But something was off about it. It did not have the familiar silvery luster as Arya's; rather, there was a golden sheen to her gedwëy ignasia.

Fírnen snorted softly and grunted, _Well. It seems you have become a Rider._ He glanced back at the hatchling Nïdhwal as he thought of something puzzling, _But…of what convenience would it be to ride a Nïdhwal? She cannot fly, nor walk on land for that matter._

"Hmph," Elva responded. "I'm sure there will be many uses for her when she is large enough."

Fírnen only blinked, unsure of what else to say at that point.

ͼͽ

The late evening air was crisp in his lungs. He could see his breath in the still and cool evening night, lit up by the light from nearby homes and torches that illuminated the path.

Roran sighed nervously as he shifted the weight of his knapsack from his right shoulder to his left while he headed towards the group. Although he had made the decision himself to accompany Ŝtanin, Arya and the others on the journey, he was still uneasy with the thought of leaving the village and his people.

Ŝtanin stood in the center of the teleportation pedestal, peering down at the crystal slab in his left hand. Both Criiztak and Fírnen stood on opposite ends of the pedestal, their forepaws resting on the glass-like surface of the crystal; Raiga stood in front of Criiztak, leaning against his right foreleg. Meanwhile, Jeod, Arya, Nasuada and Hölgeron stood together near Fírnen, conversing with one another.

Roran stopped beside Jeod, Arya and Nasuada, then turned to face Horst and Baldor, who had been following behind him. "Horst," he said while reaching his right hand out to the big burly man, "I trust you to keep the village safe while I'm gone."

Horst nodded as he took hold of Roran's hand and the two shook hands, "Don't you worry about a thing, Roran. I'll make sure this village stays in one piece by the time you return."

Roran smiled as he released his hold of Horsts hand, "Thank you."

Katrina stepped from behind Horst, "Be safe, dear. Say hello to Eragon and Saphira for me."

He stepped forward, placed his left hand on her right shoulder and kissed her on the forehead. He stepped away, paused and leaned in again, kissing her on the lips. "I will. Try not to worry about me so much. If anything were to happen, Ŝtanin will let me know and I will be here in the blink of an eye."

Katrina nodded and smiled warmly at him. Her expression changed as she seemed to remember something, "Oh, don't forget to congratulate Saphira!"

Roran chuckled quietly as he slid his left hand gently down her right arm, "I will make certain to do that." He glanced to his left, having heard Arya speaking with the half-elf Hölgeron.

"…sure you do not wish to come with us?"

The elderly half-elf nodded his head softly and smiled, "I am certain, my lady. I wish to further examine the corpse of the strange wereserpent creature we have." He glanced at Jeod and nodded, "Jeod shall inform me of whatever it is Eragon has discovered beneath the next city of the Riders."

Arya smiled, "Very well."

Roran stepped beside Arya, "Don't you worry, Arya. Horst and Baldor will make certain to keep everyone safe, including Hölgeron." He glanced over his left shoulder at the old Drëkøn in the center of the teleportation pedestal. He leaned closer to Arya and whispered in her ear, "What of Angela? Have you heard anything from her? Will she be joining us?"

Her smile faded and she shook her head slowly in response. "I have not," she said quietly. "But I'm certain she has thought about joining us."

Roran sighed as he slowly nodded his head, stepping away from her.

"You're certain, you say?" Angela's voice said from behind them.

Roran and Arya turned around towards Ŝtanin, who had also turned to face the herbalist. "Angela," said Arya, smiling briefly, "I'd only assumed-"

"You assumed wrong then," the herbalist interrupted, placing a hand on her hips. Solembum emerged from behind her blouse in his werecat form and sat beside her right leg. Angela's eyes flicked to glare at Ŝtanin, "I won't be joining you, Ŝtanin." The old Drëkøn's shoulders rose and fell as he sighed. "I have something more important to attend to, rather than go on this little reunion."

"'Something more important,' you say?" the ancient Drëkøn asked. "I trust your decision, Angela. But what is it you must attend to, if I may ask?"

The herbalist stared at him for several moments before replying, "I know what I am to do for your little prophecy. I'm going to the northern reaches of The Spine."

"The Spine?" Horst abruptly exclaimed. "What in blazes do you want to go there for?"

The old Drëkøn blinked, then smiled lightly as he nodded in response, "I see. You've realized your destined path, I presume." Angela did not respond, nor did she smile in turn; she only continued to glare at him. Ŝtanin angled his head forward while still looking at the herbalist, "Very well. If this is what you wish to do, then there is nothing stopping you from beginning your journey down the path destiny has set before your feet. But do be careful, Angela."

The herbalist narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "'Careful'? Careful of what?"

"The northern reaches of 'The Spine,' as you call it, is filled with danger. I ventured there once before in my youthful years." Ŝtanin locked eyes with Angela, "All I will say is that the forests of the north are…far different from the lands you may be familiar with here."

Angela smirked as she folded her arms, "I don't think that will be a problem." She glanced over her left shoulder just as Elva approached her from behind, "I won't be going on my adventure alone."

"I'm ready when you are," Elva said to Angela as she came to stand before the herbalist.

"You're taking Elva with you?" Nasuada asked with a worried look and glance at the witch-child.

"Of course I am," the herbalist responded in a scoffing tone. "She has agreed to come along anyway." In turn, Elva nodded with a smile.

_But what of little Winräi?_ Fírnen asked, opening his mind for everyone to hear him.

"Yes," Ŝtanin said as he gave Elva a concerned look, "you have only just bonded with the little Nïdhwal today. She is but a hatchling, little one. Are you not concerned with leaving her on her own?"

Elva shook her head in response, then smiled, "No. She's coming with us."

"Is that wise?" Roran asked as his eyebrows rose up. Despite having known about the baby Nïdhwal for little more than four hours, his twinge of concern hit him in the gut. But he knew that the herbalist would keep the both of them safe and likewise, Elva would keep the herbalist safe. However, he still could not shake the thought that it was a very risky decision to take a young and inexperienced creature on such a dangerous adventure.

"That's certainly a lot of confidence you have in your Nïdhwal, lass," Jeod said, scratching the back of his head. Roran glanced at the aged scholar, who clearly showed his own concern as well. "She's only a hatchling, like Ŝtanin said. And you are her…Rider."

"That's why Ŝtanin will cast on of his powerful protection wards on her," Elva answered with unwavering confidence.

All eyes fell upon the ancient Drëkøn. Thin streams of smoke rose from his nostrils while he was silent for several minutes, his tail gently twitching occasionally from side to side.

Roran could see on Ŝtanin's muzzle that he was greatly conflicted by Elva's proposal. He wondered why the old Drëkøn was did not make any effort to hide his emotions and feelings any longer; he wondered if it had anything to do with Angela's sudden resentment of the Drëkøn. He briefly glanced at the herbalist, _What happened between you two?_

Finally, Ŝtanin drew a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils, causing jets of smoke to shoot forth, "Very well. But I have just one question for you, little one. What will you do when your adventure takes you away from any source of freshwater?"

Angela chuckled softly at the question, "I thought you might ask such a question."

Elva patted what appeared to be an empty large leather bag slung over her shoulder and chest.

"I may not be very versed and experienced in magic," Angela continued, "but I know a little trick that will allow us to bring Winräi with us. Just a little spell that will form a bubble of water around her body, making it easier to carry her with us."

Ŝtanin nodded once, seemingly satisfied with the herbalists' answer, "Good. Then I wish you two luck on your adventure. I have cast my strongest ward upon little Winräi; she should be safe from the sharpest of claws or blades." For a very brief moment, Roran thought he saw a pained look in the Drëkøn's eyes and another glare of suspicion from Angela before Ŝtanin added, "I assure you, my ward is valid and strong; I have checked it several times already to be certain."

Despite the old Drëkøn's reassurance, Angela still did not seem entirely convinced. Nonetheless, she nodded, "Fine." She then placed a hand on Elva's right shoulder and peered down at her, "Go scoop up Winräi. We're leaving." The herbalists' lavender eyes flicked back up to the old Drëkøn as Elva turned and hurried off towards the center of the village. Several tense minutes elapsed as she glared at him with resentment.

Then, she crossed her arms and turned on her heel, but paused. "Whatever you are thinking, Ŝtanin, you can forget it. I'm perfectly capable of protecting Elva and Winräi." She shot one more glare over her right shoulder at him, "I'm doing this because it's my decision, not because fate has instructed me to play along in your little fantastical prophecy. All I will say is that your help is appreciated…but we don't need it. So don't even think about coming to the rescue whenever you feel like it. _Stay away from me._"

With that, she walked away at a brisk, almost angry pace in the direction Elva had gone.

Solembum gazed up at Ŝtanin for a few seconds before her turned and pranced off after Angela, his bushy tail held high while the last several inches hung downward as he bounded away.

No one spoke a word. All eyes were upon Ŝtanin, who stood there in silence, his eyes still watching the herbalists' back as she quickly drew further and further away from them. Then, he closed his eyes and angled his head downward.

Roran was not certain what to think or feel at that point. But as he stood there watching the Drëkøn, he felt a sense of guilt slowly creep up on him; guilt that he had not said anything, guilt that he had not spoken with the herbalist before she revealed she was not accompanying them. He averted his eyes to the ground as he frowned. He disliked seeing his friends' relationships with one another falling apart before his very eyes.

But nonetheless, he knew that despite her animosity towards Ŝtanin, Roran knew there was still some form of compliance between them; that despite whatever had occurred between them almost a week and a half earlier, there was still an obscure alliance between the ancient Drëkøn and the herbalist. He could see it.

Finally, Ŝtanin took a deep breath and spoke as he turned towards Roran and the others around him, "Well, she has chosen to pursue her destiny. I cannot stop her from doing that." A smile graced his muzzle as his eyes fell upon Roran, "The pedestal is calibrated and ready for you Roran. Just step up to the activation column and place your hand on the top when you are ready. All you must do is close your eyes…and think of Eragon."

Roran nodded in response. He pivoted his hips to face Katrina, Horst, Hölgeron and Nasuada, all of whom had stepped back several feet away from the pedestal.

"Stay safe, everyone." He smiled at Katrina, who smiled in return.

He turned back towards the center of the pedestal. He disliked leaving Katrina and Ismira alone. But his urge to reunite with Eragon was overwhelming.

He took several steps forward until the central hexagonal column was directly at him. He peered down at the hexagonal structure; it looked like nothing more than an abnormally bright blue crystal.

Roran chewed his lowered lip for a moment, then glanced about him. Fírnen and Criiztak were both touching the crystal pedestal, as was Raiga; Jeod and Arya stood on the crystal as well, their knapsacks at their feet. Everyone was touching the teleportation pedestal, just as Ŝtanin had instructed.

He glanced at Ŝtanin, who smiled lightly in return.

Drawing a deep breath, he exhaled to calm his nerves. He was overwhelmed with excitement, but at the same time nervous about using the strange crystalline technology of the ancient Drëkøn. But nonetheless, he trusted the old Drëkøn.

Roran raised his hand up, letting his hand hover above the smooth domed top of the central crystal column. His thoughts fell upon Eragon once more. Then, he placed his hand on it, taking a firm hold of its semi-oval shape.

Suddenly, the entire structure of the teleportation pedestal glowed, illuminating the surrounding area with bright cyan light.

Then, a column of cyan light shot up from the very edge of the pedestal and high up into the starry sky above, surrounding them completely. Criiztak and Fírnen's bodies outside of the column of light also began to glow a bright cyan color as several seconds elapsed while the whole structure of the pedestal pulsed once from a cyan glow to a white glow, then back to cyan.

Then…they were gone, vanishing into thin air the instant the column of cyan light disappeared into the darkness of the night sky above.

Ä

End Chapter 13

* * *

><p><strong>Pronunciation of Names<br>****Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh  
>Arya: AR-ee-uh<br>****Athgar: AUTH-gar  
>Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall<br>****Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm  
>Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall<br>Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with _lock_)  
><strong>Drëkøn: dreh-KEN<br>Dheker: DEE-ker  
><strong>****Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon  
><strong>**Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn  
><strong>**Fírnen: FEER-nin  
><strong>**Flarolth: fla-roll-th  
><strong>**Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks  
>Glaedr: GLAY-dur<br>****Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on  
>Irethil: EAR-uh-thill<br>Jäd'drë: JAHD-DRAY  
>Jeod: JODE(rhymes with <em>load<em>)  
>Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh<br>Murtagh: MUR-tag(_mur_ rhymes with _purr_)  
><strong>**Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah  
><strong>Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah<br>R********aiga: RIE-gah(_rie_ rhymes with _lie_)  
>Ra'zac: RAA-zack<br>********Řaën: RA-aen(pronounced exactly like _rain_)  
>Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh<br>**Seràhjön: ser-AH-gahn  
>Ŝtanin: STAN-in<br>T'łiøa: TIL-eh-ah  
>Urȗ'baen: OO-roo-bane<br>************Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh  
>Winräi: win-RYE<br>X'iřøc: ZEE-ee-RECK  
>Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)<br>Zeryu: ZIR-you******

The language of the **Drëkøn:  
>àidúreni: AE-doo-ren-ee - water; summons and controls water<br>Aidoní: AEE-duh-NEE - A group of **Drëkøn who 'discovered' the universe and devoted their combined intellectual brilliance to proving the existence of other universes.  
>argäete: are-GA-yet - silver<br>Belothard: name given to a gas giant planet with rings by ancient **Drëkøn scholars; name literally means 'Green Wonder.'  
><strong>brësëngar: breh-sen-gar - fire  
><strong>****Däijabú sa'g jëk chíaw tømpe fęihäq pęrr úrún'c? - What makes you think we would be injured?  
>daecri: dah-kree(possibly the <strong>Drëkøn name for R'zac; possibly the <strong>Drëkøn word for demon)<br>******delnact: DELL-nah-kt(a **Drëkøn slang word meant to insult; no modern translation available****)  
><strong>**Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival  
><strong><strong>Drogä: drow-GAH - name <strong>Drëkøn use when referring to their species.<br>**********Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.  
><strong>fràinloú: FRAH-in-low - wind<br>Gřøl: ger-EL - First **Drëkøn settlement ever established, and legendary trading center.  
>Hëhzaak wréatøv! - Blade materialize!<br>héva: HEH-vah - gender neutral suffix used by **Drëkøn** children when referring to his or her mother or father, attached by a hyphen.  
>Heźh gøtë cel reti jëk klivar wenb úrún'c. - I did not want you to get injured.<br>jïel: JAH-el - a gender specific suffix used by females when speaking to their male mates, attached by a hyphen.  
>jïen: JAH-en - a gender specific suffix used by males when speaking to their female mates, attached by a hyphen.<br>**Jëk víwta krøsen ha'døm xú yerlà, Ŝtanin. - You left without saying a word, Ŝtanin.  
>Keedärøn: kee-DAR-en - <strong>Drëkøn councilors.<br>****krënat: **Drëkøn word for e**ldunarí.  
><strong>**********Léatt: stop  
><strong>**Lëy nøk jewa kät, daecri. - May your spirit rest, daecri.  
>sovà: sow-VAY - a gender-neutral honorific suffix used by <strong>Drëkøn when speaking to dragons they are familiar with, attached by a hyphen.<br>tøbí: TEH-bee - a gender neutral suffix used by a **Drëkøn mother or father when speaking to his or her child, attached by a hyphen.**  
><strong>Tøvrí: TEH-vree - **Drëkøn organization devoted to protecting dragons and all of their cousin species.  
>Újiwó Pęyøc nït éz Drogä - Grand Archive of the <strong><strong>Drogä<strong>**.****

The Ancient Language:  
><strong>älfa: elf; same word used by <strong>Drëkøn when referring to elves.<br>******adurna: water  
>arget: silver<br>Argetlam: Silverhand  
>brisingr: fire<br>elda: a gender-neutral honorific suffix of great praise, attached with a hyphen.  
><strong>**fairth: a picture taken by magical means on a shingle of slate  
>Fölterías: name of the Grey Folk's race.<br>gedwëy ignasia: shining palm**

The Urgal Language:  
><strong>drajl: spawn of maggots<br>****ghalvuq: away**


	14. Hiatus Message!

**9/17/14** Hey readers! I know I said that I hoped to have chapter 14 out to you guys by the end of the summer, but things changed after I got a job. My time was occupied for much of the remainder of the summer, and then my last semester of college started up three weeks ago. So…unfortunately I have to put all of my fan fiction writing on hold until Christmas break. I hate to have to be the bearer of not so great news, but that is how it must be.

Why? Because this is my most work intensive semester to date. On top of classes and constant homework, I have to go to work as well. So, my stress levels are already through the roof as it is. I know, three weeks and I'm already stressed? Well, yeah, I get stressed a bit easily it seems. I had to change my work schedule so that my hours didn't have me leaving work an hour before classes start on some days, because it takes me half an hour to forty-five minutes to get to campus from where I live. That doesn't give me a lot of time to decompress after work. No, I'm not badmouthing my company; in fact, I love working at my job, I don't have anything negative to say about it! I just needed to work out a schedule that suited me best in terms of my classes and homework assignments…and studying.

So…yeah, all of my fan fiction writing unfortunately has to be put on hold. Because the fact is, I'm taking my major capstone class this semester, the Senior Writing Seminar. In this class, I have to write an original manuscript in a genre of my own choosing. And you ALL know that I work at my own pace. This class is a challenge for me in that the importance of writing is emphasized greatly, so I have to write each day for at least fifteen minutes. It's hard to find the creativity after a day's worth of classes and work hours. Again, not complaining, it's just a new challenge for me that I have to get used to for the rest of the semester. So, a new work pace in terms of writing has been placed upon me. Thus, I can't work on my fan fictions for the duration of the semester.

But! Do NOT fret! Because when the holidays roll around, I hope to have chapter 14 done and out to you guys by Christmas, maybe even Christmas day! All I ask from all of you is a little patience! I know some of you are anxious to read the next chapter and can't wait for it, I know! I can't wait to write it and get it out to you guys! But as it stands, it's got to be put on hold.

But in the meantime, I'd like to ask ALL of you a question or two. What do YOU like about my story? What is working and is not working for you guys? What brings you guys to read my story? I'd really like to have your opinions on the story thus far, because I'm anxious to know what it is I can improve about the story so you all have a better story to be entertained by! I know it's a bit much to ask you all such a favor for me, but as a writer, I'd like to know what I need to work on to better myself as a writer so that I can give you guys better quality entertainment reading! That's what I aim for all the time! So, send me some PMs or reviews or tweets or what have you! I WILL respond! Because I am a writer who truly cares about his audience and their opinions. So please, give me your thoughts and opinions on the story thus far!


End file.
